Risembool and Rush Valley
by Yellow Mask
Summary: Edwin series of oneshots. 7th Story Up! In this life, only three things truly matter how deeply you've loved, how much you've trusted...and how gracefully you've let go.
1. In Sickness

**In Sickness**

**By Yellow Mask**

_Part of the 'Risembool and Rush Valley' series_

**Spoilers:** The manner of Trisha's death.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own FMA.

_AN: This is the first of a series I am calling the 'Risembool and Rush Valley' series. They are Edwin themed oneshots, but will center around Winry's life in both Risembool and Rush Valley, the part that is fairly unconnected to the visits from the Elric brothers. The individual stories won't be directly related unless indicated, but I just had a slew of ideas on Winry's life because we don't see much of it that doesn't relate to Ed's visits.  
_

_And why is this story listed as complete? Because each story stands alone, so each is complete in itself._

**oooooooo**

Winry tried to repress the tickle building in her throat, but it exploded in a series of racking coughs that made her chest and stomach ache as the muscles protested the violent movement.

She was coughing badly, her throat was sore, her nose was running, her joints ached, her muscles throbbed, and her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool.

She was sick, no two ways about it. She wondered if her little excursion in the rain had anything to do with it.

Two days ago, she'd been caught in the rain while going home from the market. She'd run the rest of the way home, but now it seemed like the damage had already been done.

Winry bent over with the force of her coughing, managing to regurgitate something that looked like it belonged in a slime pond rather than her lungs.

"Gross," Winry muttered, washing her hand in the sink.

"Granny," she called into the workshop, only to begin coughing again as the shout irritated her throat once more.

"You sound sick," her grandmother barked.

"That's the point. I'm going back to bed before I hack up a lung."

"Smart girl. Do you need anything?"

"Just sleep, I think."

Winry managed to stagger back to bed, and practically collapsed into the rumpled sheets. She closed her eyes, and her drained body gave into sleep within moments.

**oooooooo**

Winry remained in bed for the next week, and Pinako was growing concerned with the length of her granddaughter's illness. She'd called the doctor on the second day, and he had recommended plenty of bed rest. Which would have been good advice, except that bed rest simply didn't seem to be doing anything for Winry. If anything, her illness was getting progressively worse.

Winry was pale and running a fever, and on those days when she actually did manage to summon enough energy to totter around the house, it was never very long before she had to rest again. Though Winry had been trying to keep her strength up, any food she ate never stayed down for long, and she was steadily losing weight as her body was forced to burn fat reserves to keep functioning.

"Now are you sure you'll be alright?" Pinako asked, "If we didn't need these groceries so badly I'd stay with you-"

"I'll be fine, Granny," Winry cut in from her position on the couch, lying on her back and gazing steadily at the cieling. "Really – I'm not going to do anything but sleep."

"Glad to hear it," Pinako said gruffly, "And I'll try to get the doctor out again – you should have been on the mend long ago. Now, are you comfortable where you are?"

"Actually, I might go up to bed."

Winry slowly gained her feet and took the stairs with a definite quiver in her step.

**oooooooo**

Ed tried to sneak into the house, on the lookout for flying wrenches. But Al ruined his attempt at silence with his bellow of greeting.

"Granny! Winry! We're back!"

Ed winced, waiting for the inevitable blow to the head. But silence reigned throughout the house, save for Den's welcoming barks.

"Where are they?" Ed asked, looking around the barren house.

He took a deep breath, then shouted at the top of his lungs, "_Winry!_"

A crash sounded from Winry's bedroom, and a sleep-riddled voice called, "What?"

The blonde mechanic staggered down the stairs, clad in a long-sleeved shirt and pants, blinking blearily and rubbing her eyes. She seemed to be weaving on her feet, and Ed could tell they'd woken her up from a sound sleep when she responded only half-heartedly to Al's enthusiastic greeting and failed to fling a wrench at his head.

"Where's Granny?" Al asked, looking around.

"Went grocery shopping," Winry yawned.

"Still asleep?" Ed chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "It's nearly two in the afternoon!"

"Shut up, alchemy freak," Winry growled, leaning heavily against the table. "What's broken this time?"

Ed's eyes narrowed. Was it just his imagination, or did Winry look paler than usual? There seemed to be fine sheen on sweat on her skin as well...

"Well, Ed?"

Ed shook his head. Winry was fine – she was always fine.

"It's not _broken_ broken..." he defended, raising his arm.

Winry groaned, looking at the mangled casing and exposed wires. She would have wrenched him, but every joint ached and her limbs felt shaky. Trust Ed to come knocking, in dire need of repairs, just when all she wanted to do was lay down and sleep.

"I'll get my toolkit," she sighed, trying to persuade her body to move towards the workshop.

Ed snorted as Winry staggered into the doorframe. "Clumsy, much?"

Winry's glare was rather dampened by the splitting headache that seemed to have taken up residence in her temples.

Ed blinked in surprise as Winry turned around and simply walked into the workshop, shutting the door without comment. He had been sure she would have rounded on him for that remark – secretly, he'd always loved the way she never let anyone walk all over her.

"Hey, Al, did Winry seem...off...to you?"

"Normally, she'd have hit you with a wrench by now..." Al mused, pausing on his way outside. "Brother, I'm going to play with Den, okay?"

"I'll give you a shout when Winry's finished with the automail," Ed acknowledged.

**oooooooo**

It took far more time than it should have for Winry to find her toolkit. Her head was still foggy, she was still running a fever, her limbs still resisted her commands as though clogged with syrup, and she wondered briefly about the wisdom of fixing Ed's automail while she was in such a state.

She let loose with a series of lung-spasming coughs just as she located the metal toolbox under the work table. She bent over and heaved it up, trying to make her way back to the kitchen...

However, lugging around a thirty pound toolbox while in the throes of a debilitating illness wasn't a good idea. Winry's head swam, her vision blurred to a multicoloured whirl, and before she could even think to drop the toolbox, darkness fell in a silent cloud.

**oooooooo**

Ed was sitting on the couch, waiting for Winry's re-entrance, when he heard a deafening crash from the workshop, sounding as though Winry had unleashed a rain of tools on the floor.

"Yeesh, Winry, you really _do_ sound like you're on the clumsy side today," he called towards the door.

He waited for the explosion, but it never came. Not even a snorted insult or a huff.

"Hey, Winry, are you okay in there?"

Still no sound.

Feeling the beginning pricklings of worry, Ed crossed the room and opened the door...

Winry was sprawled on the floor, arms outstretched towards the toolbox. The metal lid had broken open upon impact, spraying tools in all directions.

Unbidden, a flash of memory rose in Ed's mind. His mother, collapsed on the floor, the fruits and vegetables she'd been carrying scattered from her outstretched arms...

He couldn't help the scream that ripped from his throat, an expression of utter horror and primal terror.

"_WINRY!_"

Ed practically fell at her side, his hands clutching at her, trying to turn her over, his movements frantic, panicked. _'Not her too, please not her...'_

His flesh hand fumbled at her throat for a pulse, and he almost drew back in shock at how hot her skin was – it was like touching a furnace! The rise and fall of her chest was reassuring, but her breaths were weak and shaky, interspersed with gasps and coughs. Her could feel the sweat on her body, even in the cool workshop.

Winry was sick. Really sick, if she'd collapsed in the middle of the room. Ed's fear rose a notch. What should he do?

Well, he could get her out of here, for a start.

He eased his left, softer arm under her shoulders, while he worked his right under the crook of her knees. He lifted her easily, and Ed felt another flash of panic. Winry was as tall as he was – it shouldn't have been this easy to carry her! He'd lifted suitcases that weighed more than she did!

It was effort to remain somewhere resembling calm as he carried Winry into the living room and laid her gently on the couch, especially when Ed realised that the bumps digging into his arm through her shirt weren't rolls of fabric, but her ribs.

Al charged in, attracted by his shout. "What's wrong?"

"She just collapsed," Ed hissed urgently, trying to get his hands to stop shaking. "I just opened the door...and she was lying on the floor...just like..."

He didn't need to finish. Al understood. _'Just like Mum...'_

"Is she okay?" Al squeaked.

"I-I don't know...Al...what do we do? She's burning up!"

Al was alarmed by the tinge of panic in his brother's voice. "A fever? I think...I think we should try to cool her down...at least, I'm sure I read that somewhere..."

"Right, cool her down..." Ed's eyes zeroed in on the dishcloth beside the sink.

He dashed over, ran icy water over it until it was soaked, then returned to Winry's side, wiping the chilled material over her face, already feeling marginally better now that he had something to do.

"Al, see if you can find some ice somewhere," he said, rolling up Winry's sleeves to try to cool her off, wincing when he saw the bones in her wrists so clearly defined.

_'Stupid idiot!'_ Ed berated himself as Al left the room. _'Stupid, stupid, stupid! Should've known, should've known! She was pale and sweaty, she didn't hit you with the wrench, she looked woozy, she ran into things..."Clumsy much?" Idiot! Winry's never clumsy...'_

"Why didn't you say something, you stupid machine junkie?" he murmured ruefully, dragging the cool cloth across her cheek again.

Ed's heart lurched as Winry's eyelashes fluttered on her cheek like dark butterflies. She groaned, coughed, and her eyes cracked open, the normally vibrant blue glazed and dull.

"Ed?" she croaked, "Wha...?"

Her muscles tensed as though she was about to rise, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Don't even think it about, Winry," Ed growled, irrationally angry that she frighten him like this. "You just collapsed in the middle of the workshop – you're sick! Goddamn it, Winry, you could have seriously injured – why didn't you say something?"

"Sorry," Winry said in a small, weak voice that instantly made Ed feel guilty for shouting at her. "But you needed your automail done..."

"I don't care about the stupid automail!" Ed exploded. "You're sick, Winry! What's wrong with you?"

"Don't know..." she slurred, her eyelids already starting to droop. "Been sick for a long time..."

The more Ed heard about this, the less he liked it. Worry twisted his gut.

"Winry..."

"I'm so tired," she breathed, obviously struggling to stay awake.

"Go to sleep, Winry," Ed sighed, wiping the cloth over her neck to collect the beads of sweat that had formed there.

"'Kay."

Winry's eyes closed, and her breathing even out within moments. But her inhalations rasped like sandpaper over gravel.

Al came in with a fistful of ice. "I think these are meant to be used during the operations, but I'm sure Granny won't mind if we take it."

Ed wrapped the ice cubes in the cloth, and continued to pass it back and forth across Winry's skin. After several minutes, he felt her forehead again.

"Has her temperature gone down?" Al asked anxiously.

Ed hissed in frustration and shook his head. "Strong as ever...goddamn it, what's she got?"

Several swift barks from Den interrupted the blonde alchemist's train of thought. Pinako entered, placing bags laden with groceries on the table.

"So, now that you boys are back again-"

Then her eyes took in Winry lying on the couch, Ed sponging her face and neck...

"What happened?" she cried, bolting to the prone girl.

"She just collapsed," Ed swiped at Winry's bare arms with the impromptu icepack. "And her temperature's through the roof!"

"I'll call the doctor," Pinako said tightly, already making her way to the phone.

Ed wondered briefly why he hadn't thought of that, then turned his attention back to the feverish Winry.

**oooooooo**

The doctor came swiftly, armed with a slew of instruments. He checked Winry's temperature, listened to her breathing, her heart rate, and ended up prescribing a small bottle of antibiotics, to be taken twice daily.

Though anxious herself, Pinako still found Ed and Al's obvious panic amusing. Until she looked at Winry, sweating and panting on the bed, and it struck her how much she looked like Trisha in her final moments. No wonder Ed looked so pale – seeing Winry collapsed on the floor must have brought back too many bad memories.

When the doctor left, Ed leaned in, clutching Winry's hand, brushing sweat-soaked hair away from her face.

And, despite the seriousness of the situation, Pinako had to hide a smile.

**oooooooo**

Gradually, Winry inched towards recovery. She learned that Pinako had called the doctor in after her collapse, and her sudden change of health was a result of the antibiotics he'd given them. She slept most of the day, and had to be woken periodically to take the pills and to eat. But she still couldn't keep much down, unless it was very light.

Ed's behaviour kept confusing her, though. He hadn't pressured her about his automail once (and Winry privately wondered why he hadn't got Pinako to repair his arm), when she managed to rejoin the waking world he was always right beside her bed, and during her vomit attacks, he supported her over the toilet and held her hair away from her face.

And Winry knew you didn't hold someone's hair back while they vomited unless you really cared about them.

So when she finally awoke one morning – four days after her collapse – feeling weak and drained but otherwise healthy, the first thing she wanted to do was ask him about it.

He was sitting on a chair beside her bed, his head resting on the blanket, near her hip, eyes shut and snoring softly.

_'Has he been sleeping here?'_ Winry wondered.

She brushed her fingers over his disheveled braid, causing him to stir. His eyes opened, blinked once, then widened as they landed on her.

"Winry?"

"Hey, Ed,"she beamed.

"Are you-?" he started, beginning to rise.

"Don't worry, Ed," she giggled. "I'm not about to throw up again. In fact, I'm feeling better than I have in ages."

"You're...feeling better?" he ventured cautiously.

"Well, I assume I'll be a little frail for a couple of days, but other than that, I'm fine."

Ed grinned, and Winry saw his relief in every line of his features.

"And Ed, I just wanted to say thanks...for everything you've done."

"I didn't do anything," he mumbled, sounding embarrassed.

"You did, Ed. Whenever I woke up, you were right there, and that was...comforting. But I have to ask you...why were you so worried?"

Ed bit his lip and looked at the floor. "I...I walked into the workshop and saw you lying on the floor and I...I..."

"Ed?"

"It was just...just like when Mum...and I thought...just for a second...I thought you were going to die..."

Winry's heart went out to him. She could only guess at how frightening that must have been for him – to have his mother die like that, then see her collapse on the floor in the same way...

She slid from the bed and wrapped him in her arms. "It's okay, Ed, it's okay."

Winry was surprised when Ed, who normally avoided physical contact, hugged her back, fiercely.

"I was...I was so scared," he whispered.

Winry was astounded at what was happening. Ed was revealing so much, allowing her to see him so vulnerable...she almost felt like she should return the favour, to assure him he wasn't the only one spilling his heart here.

So she kissed him.

It was soft, light, their lips in contact for barely a second. Winry pulled away first, smiling at the dazed expression on Ed's face.

"Come on, Ed, let's go downstairs and I'll fix your automail."

**End.**


	2. Hero

**Hero**

**By Yellow Mask**

_Part of the 'Risembool and Rush Valley' series_

**Disclaimer:** I do not own FMA.

**Spoilers:** General spoilers apply.

_AN: Forgot to mention, these stories are set in the manga unless stated otherwise._

**oooooooo**

It was hot, dusty and humid the day Winry became a hero.

She had been in the workshop, pouring over an automail leg and wiping sweat from her eyes when Garfiel came in. The older man had been insistent that she come with him _right now_, and a bewildered Winry had obliged. In the center of Rush Valley, they'd found something very strange.

A tall, dark-haired boy claiming to be the Fullmetal Alchemist.

**oooooooo**

Winry had no way of knowing that the boy in front of her was Thomas Malcolm, who had already swindled several towns by pretending to be Edward Elric. She had no way of knowing that he was already half-way to adding Rush Valley to that list – even though most of the general populace had encountered Ed at one time or another, they didn't know him as the Fullmetal Alchemist. She had no way of knowing that he was currently wanted by the military.

Winry's reaction wasn't noble or heroic. It was pure outrage and indignation.

"_You're not Ed!_"

Her wrench had been tucked away in her back pocket, so when she plunged her hand into one of her front pockets, her fingers met with the handle of a screwdriver instead.

It didn't slow Winry down, though.

She hurled the tool at Malcolm's head. If it had hit, it would have easily resulted in a concussion. Unfortunately, Malcolm had turned at the sound of her shout, and the screwdriver struck his shoulder instead.

"Got you, you jerk!"

A spanner was the next tool to be flung. But Malcolm had already sketched a quick circle on the ground, and her tool impacted his alchemised wall as it sprang into being.

People were yelling and scattering, but Winry was now well and truly riled. The voice in the back of her head, screaming that she was a fool for taking on an _alchemist_ – had been silenced by the adrenaline flooding her veins.

Fight or flight. And Winry had never been much for flight.

When Malcolm came around his barrier, she threw a handful of bolts at him. His hands flew up, trying to shield his eyes from the rain of metal rings. When he lowered his hands, it was to find Winry charging him like an avenging angel.

The rushing sound was Winry's only warning. She threw herself to the side as a blast of what felt like superheated steam carved the air. Her reflexes were good, allowing her to avoid most of the blast, but she felt the boiling air against the skin of her neck and shoulder. A cry scraped past her throat at the sharp pain, swiftly followed by the weeping sting of a burn.

The momentum of her leap sent her to the ground, and Malcolm loomed above her.

Winry had no idea where the blade came from.

She managed to roll to the side as he brought it down, the blade burrowing into the dirt instead of Winry's chest. Then she rolled back before he could pull it away.

The flat of the blade caught between Winry's back and the ground, and started to tip towards the dirt. Malcolm was forced to release the handle as Winry rolled over it. Her hand was already slipping into her pocket again, this time bringing out a small hammer.

Winry didn't throw it this time. She simply swung it at his shin.

Malcolm howled, stumbling away from her. Winry hurled the hammer at his dancing feet, and she was sure the impact broke at least two toes. She fumbled in her clothes again, finding several coils of wire. Thankful – and not for the first time – for her near-bottomless pockets, Winry flicked the wires like a lasso, using them to snag Malcolm's ankles and foul his legs. Winry finally gained her feet, dug out a handful of small screws and threw them at his head.

It was the final blow to his already-precarious balance, and Malcolm ended up sprawled on the ground.

Winry snatched his blade from the ground, intending to simply hold it to his throat until the authorities arrived. But she'd given Malcolm enough time to draw another transmutation circle.

A large fist, apparently made entirely out of rock, shot from the ground and smashed into Winry's stomach with the force of a sledgehammer. The air rushed out of her lungs as she was slammed backwards into the dust, the knife spinning away from her hand. Her abdomen burned, and Winry silently prayed for no internal bleeding. If he'd managed to rupture an organ, she was done for.

Winry was given no time to get her breath back. Another earthy fist drove into her side, sending her tumbling into the wall of a building. Winry gasped and coughed, blood streaking across the brickwork.

_'Get up!'_ she yelled at herself. _'Get up or you're dead!' _ Some dim, foggy part of her mind wondered why no one was helping her – the street was now deserted, but surely someone must have thought to bring the police? And where was Garfiel?

Winry's thoughts were broken when Malcolm bent over her. She felt his fingers slip around her neck, and start to squeeze...

Her air cut off. Winry panicked, struggling wildly. Her medical training was reminding her that the trachea was held open with rings of cartilage, and if he exerted enough pressure to snap one of those...she'd die.

But as her head began to feel light, Winry remembered the greatest disadvantage of trying to strangle someone – you needed to use both hands. And that left the rest of your body unprotected.

Winry's profession didn't allow much in the way of fingernails, but she still had enough to do some damage. She raked her nails down Malcolm's face, making sure to dig them in as deep as possible. He shouted in agony. His grip faltered, but he didn't release her.

Winry drove her thumbs into the hollow where his collarbones joined, putting sudden, crushing pressure on his own trachea. Malcolm choked and stumbled back, and Winry sucked clean air into her starved lungs with a rushing gasp of relief.

She swung her leg up, her boot clouting Malcolm on the side of his face. Winry felt his nose break. She scrambled to her feet, ignoring her body's protests and the blood on her tongue...

But Malcolm had already scrawled a quick circle on the wall.

Winry's reflexes were good, but they weren't superhuman. Half the building caved in , and bricks rained down on her. Winry threw her arms over her head as she was forced to the ground. A heavy steel beam slammed on top of her legs. A sickening snapping sound and the wave of agony that engulfed her brain told her at least one of them was broken.

By the time the dust cleared, Winry found herself pinned, face down, with a broken leg.

_'This isn't good.'_

But as Malcolm came towards her, she gently eased her hand into her back pocket, her fingertips brushing the reassuring metal of her wrench. Slowly, Winry pulled it out, and prepared to throw.

This time, she got a direct hit.

**oooooooo**

Winry didn't know how long she lay there, near her opponent's unconscious body, trying to ease her way out from under the rubble.

She'd risked a look back, and determined that it was definitely her right leg that had broken. She was still spitting blood, and judging by the stinging in her mouth, it came from a split lip. At least, she hoped it did. Her throat ached, and her whole body throbbed. The burn across her neck and left shoulder was beginning to leak plasma.

_'Still...considering I was stupid enough to take on an alchemist, I'd say I'm pretty lucky.'_

"_Winry!_"

Winry looked up wearily. Paninya was running towards her, easily outdistancing Garfiel and several police officers.

_'So that's why Garfiel disappeared – he went to get the police.'_

Paninya began shoving the debris off her friend. "Winry, are you alright?"

"I'm alive," Winry muttered, her voice tight with pain. "Does that count?"

"Watch my legs," she hissed as Paninya tried to pull the beam away. "The right one's broken."

"Ouch," Paninya said sympathetically, noticing the unnatural sag in Winry's leg. "That's gotta hurt."

"Winry! Oh, dear, I _knew_ I should have stayed-" Garfiel gushed, looking frantic.

"I'm okay," Winry reassured her mentor.

She bit her lip, tears of pain gathering in her eyes as the policemen moved the beam off her legs. Paninya bent down, pulling Winry's arm over her shoulders with one hand and wrapping the other around the mechanic's waist.

"Stand on three," the dark-haired girl coached. "One...two..._three!_"

Winry gritted her teeth as she was yanked upright, swallowing her scream. Paninya pulled her in close her to her body, taking most of Winry's weight.

"Thanks," Winry gasped out, leaning heavily on her friend to take the weight off her leg. "I think I'd like to go the hospital now."

Winry was barely aware of the people starting to crowd into the street, and only dimly registered the flash of cameras.

**oooooooo**

"What do you want?" Ed snarled as he barged into Mustang's office.

"What was that, Fullmetal?" the Colonel asked as Al entered the room, at a far more sedate pace than his brother.

"You called us to your office!" Ed snapped, with every appearance of someone convinced they have better things to do.

"I did," Roy agreed, picking up the newspaper on his desk. "Do you remember when we discussed Thomas Malcolm?"

Ed nodded, suddenly serious.

"Did he impersonate Brother again?" Al asked.

"Actually, I called you here to inform you of his capture," Mustang said, keeping his voice purposefully casual. This sort of revelation had to be milked for all it was worth.

Ed smirked. "The military finally did its job, then?"

"Not quite," Mustang smirked in return. "He was arrested by the police in Rush Valley-"

"_Rush Valley?_" both Elric brothers exclaimed, their minds instantly flashing to Winry.

"-After having an altercation with one of the mechanics there," Roy finished, flipping the newspaper open and showing them the article in question. "Since we're in Central, it only made the third page – but I'm told it was front page news in Rush Valley."

Both Ed and Al gaped at the picture. It was Winry!

The blonde mechanic was obviously unaware she was being photographed. She was leaning on Paninya, one arm over the other girl's shoulder, and another dark-skinned arm around her waist. Winry was giving her friend a pained half-grin that looked more like a grimace. Dirt and dust was smeared across her face and clothes, and clung to her hair. Blood was running down her chin, and there was an angry red patch of skin across her left shoulder and neck. Her right leg hung at such an awkward angle they had no doubt it was broken.

In the corner was another photo – that of Thomas Malcolm being led away in handcuffs. Parallel scratches running the length of his face dripped blood onto his collar. More of the crimson fluid ran over his temple from his head, clumping strands of his hair together, and his nose was clearly broken.

After allowing them to absorb the images, the Colonel flipped the newspaper back towards himself, and began to read the article aloud.

"_Thomas Malcolm, 19, had been impersonating the Fullmetal Alchemist (Edward Elric) for several months. He used this title to swindle the people of several small towns, before he decided to move onto bigger game. It was this that proved his undoing._"

"_Winry Rockbell, 16, a talented young automail engineer, is a close friend of Edward Elric and currently working in Rush Valley. She recognised the deception immediately, and proceeded to engage the alchemist in a physical fight._"

Ed and Al twitched.

"_While the altercation lasted only minutes, both participants received injuries worthy of a natural disaster. One of the automail shops on Main Street lost half its structure – Malcolm demolished it with alchemy in an attempt to disable Rockbell._"

"_Eventually, Malcolm was knocked unconscious by a blow to the head from Rockbell's wrench._"

Ed snorted, and Al managed a half-chuckle. Mustang found it surprising they'd remained so quiet during his reading – Ed must really want to hear it to be so docile.

He continued, "_Malcolm is currently in custody and refused to provide comment. Rockbell could not be reached, as she has been admitted into Sandy Mountains Hospital for treatment._"

Roy had barely dropped the newspaper back to his desk before both Elrics were out the door, the red tail of Ed's coat disappearing down the hallway.

**oooooooo**

Winry wrinkled her nose, then winced as it pulled her lip. The grey mush in front of her looked like it was meant to be porridge, but she didn't trust hospital food. She maneuvered a spoonful into her mouth carefully, then grimaced. Cardboard had more taste.

She sighed, and took a deep breath of the scented air.

Her room was filled with flowers, chocolates and get-well cards, sent by admirers. Apparently, her story had made headlines, and she was now being hailed as a hero. There were definite benefits – the smell of flowers to cover up the scent of disinfectant and plenty of much needed chocolates for her painful recovery, for example.

Still...Winry thought she could have done without all the attention.

**oooooooo**

She lay back against the pillows, careful not to jar her bruises or jostle her leg. It was a little uncomfortable – with her broken leg placed in a case and elevated, she couldn't quite relax. She was on a steady stream of pain medication, but the IV made her hand ache where the needle entered her skin. She did her best to get some sleep anyway.

Footsteps outside alerted her to a visitor, and Winry sat up gratefully. Paninya had promised to come by and sneak her some real food.

But to her surprise, when the door creaked open, it revealed Ed and Al.

**oooooooo**

Ed was unable to keep his jaw from dropping as he entered the room. It was so packed with flowers it looked like a field in full bloom. Chocolate boxes were stacked in foot-high piles at irregular intervals, and cards littered every available surface.

"Ed? Al?" a hoarse voice called, and they were finally able to locate Winry in the clutter.

When they made their way to her side, Ed choked.

Winry's right leg was wrapped in a cast and elevated from the bed. A nasty burn travelled from her shoulder and up the curve of her neck, almost reaching her ear. The skin on her bottom lip had split wide and the gash reached into the flesh of her chin, the wound held closed by a line of black stitches. Bruises splotched across her body like a toddler's fingerpainting, and especially prominent were the imprint of hands on her neck.

"Are you okay?" Al cried, obviously as horrified at her appearance as Ed was.

Winry gave him the lop-sided smile she had developed to ensure she didn't pull her stitches. "I'm fine, Al – they've got good pain medication here."

"You sure you're alright?" Ed managed to eek out.

"Sure, I'm sure. I'd be back at the shop already – with crutches, of course – but the doctors want to keep me for observation. Something about making absolutely certain I'm not bleeding internally, I think."

"Internal bleeding?" Ed parroted, looking worried.

"Yeah, I got a pillar of rock to the gut when I took on some idiot of an alchemist-"

"We heard about that," Al interrupted, sounding slightly awed. "You beat an _alchemist_!"

"Wasn't that hard to do," Winry would have shrugged, except she didn't want to stretch her burn. "The only reason I'm beaten six ways to Sunday is because my first shot missed his head and gave him the opportunity to start drawing those circles."

"What actually happened?" Ed couldn't help asking. "The newspaper didn't say much..."

Winry's brow furrowed. "The newspaper? In Central?"

Ed nodded.

"Wow! I made the newspaper in Central!" Winry seemed very surprised.

"What did happen?" Al echoed Ed's earlier query.

Winry seemed to ponder for a moment, then settled herself into the pillows, apparently in readiness to tell her story. "I saw that guy in the middle of Main Street – Garfiel took me. And I realised he was pretending to be Ed, so I yelled _'You're not Ed!'_, and chucked my screwdriver at him."

Ed laughed a little. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"Shhh!" Winry snapped, "This is my story! Anyway, he dodged, and it only hit his shoulder, and by the time I'd thrown my spanner at him, he'd already alchemised some sort of wall from the ground. But when he came around it, I threw a heap of bolts in his face. Except then he got pissed and shot steam at me, and that's when I got the burn."

She gestured to her shoulder, taking care not to pull the IV out. "I leapt to the side to try to avoid it, but then he was standing over me with this knife-"

Ed jerked, and quickly perused her body for stab wounds.

"So I rolled out of the way, and when he stuck the knife in the dirt I rolled back on top of it and made him let go. Then I hit him in the shin with my hammer...broke a couple of his toes, as well. I tripped him with some wire and threw my screws in his face, and then I grabbed the knife and ran over to him. But that's when he made this rock-fist thing punch me in the gut and then into a wall. It split my lip and gave me a heap of bruises. And then he tried to strangle me-" she touched the bruises on her throat for emphasis.

"So I scratched his face and jabbed my fingers into his neck to make him let go. When he stumbled back, I kicked him and broke his nose. Except then he made the building cave in, and a steel beam fell on my legs and broke one of them. But then I threw my wrench at him and he was out like a light."

"Wow, Winry..." Al said, the awe in his voice far more pronounced.

Ed, for his part, was simultaneously enraged that someone had hurt Winry and astonished that she'd managed to hold her own in that kind of fight. Apparently, Winry was far tougher than he'd ever realised.

"Why'd they stick that in you?" Al asked, pointing to the IV, innocently curious.

Winry gave another lop-sided smile. "This gives me the drugs," she explained. "They have to keep me doped up on painkillers. I don't really mind, but the needle does feel a little wierd, and the drugs make me drowsy sometimes – I've been taking lots of naps."

"So you're really okay..." Ed stated more than asked, looking at her hand. His eyes were fixed on the small, yellowish bruise where the needle entered her skin, contrasting the pale tape that held it in place.

"I think I've learned my lesson," Winry snorted. "Never try to be a hero, no matter how many nice things it gets you." She gestured around the room.

"But you _are_ a hero," Al pointed out. "That's why you're in so many newspapers."

"Thanks for the compliment, Al, but I could do without the attention."

You could never see Al's face, but you always knew – somehow – when he smiled. "When can you leave?"

"Beats me. They need to keep an eye on me, but I don't know for how long-" Winry's eyes lit up. "Al? Could you go find my doctor and ask him? His name's Dr. Stone."

"Sure," Al was already moving.

"Thanks!" Winry called after him as the door clicked shut.

She turned to look at Ed, who was staring at her with a strange expression on his face.

"Ed? What's the matter?"

Ed's mind had been replaying Winry's words, over and over.

_'...shot steam at me, and that's when I got the burn...'_

_'...then he was standing over me with this knife...'_

_'...that's when he made this huge rock-fist thing punch me in the gut and then into a wall...'_

_'...then he tried to strangle me...'_

_'...then he made the building cave in, and a steel beam fell on my legs...'_

"_You could have died!_" Ed suddenly exploded.

He knew he was being unfair and irrational. He knew Winry could hardly help that her attempt to expose Malcolm had turned into a life-threatening fight. He knew that Winry couldn't have let something like that go, that was just the sort of person she was.

But he couldn't stop thinking that if one thing – just one thing – had gone wrong...Winry would have died...

If the steam had hit her instead of just grazing her...

If the knife had found its mark...

If the rock-fist had ruptured organs...

If Malcolm had strangled her...

If the building had crushed her...

Winry would have been _dead_.

"_You could have died!_" he yelled again. "You went out and got yourself beaten up, and you nearly...you nearly..."

Winry was furious that Ed – of all people – would _dare_ to lecture her about getting into danger.

"What's the matter, Ed?" she growled. "Can't stand the taste of your own medicine?"

He flinched, and Winry turned her head away.

"Be grateful, Ed," she said softly, old bitterness heavy on her tongue. "At least I told you what happened. At least I trusted you, cared about you enough to..."

Winry felt tears rising in her eyes and stopped talking. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, trying to take deep, even breaths. Trying to calm herself down. While the painkillers blunted the knife-edge of agony, there were still slight pricklings of pain jabbing at her senses. She wanted to say it was what was causing her to be so sharp with Ed, but she knew better. It was the bitterness of all those times when he refused to tell her what had happened to destroy his automail, what had happened to land him in the hospital...

Winry's chest tightened, and she struggled to suppress the sob rising in her throat. She would _not_ cry, not now. She'd cried in front of him too many times, and always been called 'stupid' or 'foolish' for it...

Ed was stunned. Did Winry really think he never told her what happened to him because he didn't trust her? Didn't care about her? Nothing could be farther from the truth – he just didn't want to worry her...

Though he had to admit, on the receiving end, he'd have been far more worried if she'd refused to tell them what happened.

He looked at Winry, and noticed for the first time that her shoulders were shaking. Ed could hear the soft rasp in her breath that signalled her tears. She was crying.

With her back to him.

With a start, Ed realised it was the first time Winry had turned away when she cried. She'd never had a problem with crying in front of him before, but now...her back was turned. Shutting him out.

Refusing to let him see her cry. Refusing to let him see her vulnerability.

Suddenly, Ed felt like the world's worst jerk. His mind mentally replayed all the times when he had kept secrets from Winry, when he tried to shut her out, believing he was protecting her. How could she think he didn't trust her, didn't care about her?

Winry's shoulders continued to shake.

Distressing as Winry's tears always were to him, Ed suddenly found himself wishing she would at least turn around. It was one thing to know she was crying – it was another to know she didn't trust him with her tears.

Ed gently touched Winry's shoulder, making sure it was the right one and making sure not to jar her injuries.

"Go away, Ed," she choked out, swatting at him with the hand that didn't have the IV in it.

Slowly, gently, being very careful not to cause her any pain, Ed turned her to face him. She couldn't turn far anyway - not with her leg in a cast and resting in a stirrup. But Winry wouldn't look at him, keeping her eyes locked on the off-white sheet.

"Go away, Ed," she sniffled again. "Leave me alone."

But then the hospital blanket disappeared from her vision as Winry found herself engulfed in Ed's arms and pulled gently into a warm chest.

"I'm sorry, Winry," Ed whispered.

Winry froze. She couldn't remember the last time Ed had hugged her, or the last time he'd apologised...sincerely, at least.

"You're a jerk," she huffed, but hugged him in return.

"I know," was all he said.

And Ed did know. All these years, he'd always thought he was protecting her. Shielding her from the true horrors of the world – letting her keep her innocence. But he'd finally realised...

Winry had lost her innocence a long time ago.

Like he and Al, she was an adult in a child's body, waiting for her physical maturity to one day reach level with her mental. Fighting an alchemist merely to stop him swindling people out of their money – merely because it was _right_ – was not the action of a girl who had only just turned sixteen. Ignoring her own injuries in favour of staying to fight...patiently tolerating the pain and the hospital stay...regretting the attention her actions had garnered...that wasn't the attitude of a child.

"Winry..." Ed swallowed, running his hand through her hair. It was pulled back in a ponytail in an effort to keep the strands away from the healing burn.

"Winry, I...I know I've kept secrets...but it's not because I don't trust you...or care about you..."

Words weren't working, so Ed did the only thing he could think of thatwould possibly show Winry how much she meant to him.

He kissed her.

Her lips were warm, and tasted slightly of porridge. Ed kept the kiss gentle, conscious of the rough stitches against his mouth – he didn't want to break them open.

Eventually, he drew away. Winry blinked, licked her lips, and blinked again.

Ed was just beginning to panic when she spoke.

"You kissed me..."

"Y-yeah," Ed stammered, starting to sweat.

"Are you going to do it again?"

"Um..." Now Ed was really panicking – what was the right answer? What did she want?

But salvation came as Winry spoke again. "Because if you don't, I think I'll have to hit you."

Ed sighed in relief. "I thought you were mad."

Winry gave him a lop-sided smile. "I'm not mad. In fact, I'd say I'm happier then I've been in a long time...injuries aside."

Ed could feel a silly grin starting to spread across his face.

"Although," Winry touched the stitches on her lip gingerly. "Can we postpone this kissing thing for a while? I think I'll enjoy it more when I'm all healed up."

"I think I can wait a while," Ed smirked, leaning back.

But as her arms drifted away from him, he snagged her hand with his own.

Their fingers remained entwined, even when Al came back with the doctor.

**End.**


	3. Puppy Love

**Puppy Love**

**By Yellow Mask**

_part of the 'Risembool and Rush Valley' series_

**Spoilers:** None overt

**Disclaimer:** I do not own FMA.

_AN: The other two stories were sort of on the angsty side, so I decided to give you guys something light and fluffy. And I think I needed something lightweight after all the heavy stuff I'm churning out in 'Angel'._

**oooooooo**

The knock on the door jerked Winry out of a light doze. "Coming!"

She opened the door to William Roskin – a dark-haired man who farmed sheep three doors up from them – and a large cardboard box.

"Winry, I was wondering..." he began

"Yeah?"

Winry peered into the box, surprised when she found five pairs of dark eyes staring back at her.

"Puppies," she breathed. Then looked up at Roskin. "You want me to look after them."

It wasn't a question – it was a statement of fact. Winry had spend most of her teenage life raising orphaned or abandoned animals. As an automail mechanic, she could tailor her job to fit her day, where a farmer had to tailor their day to fit their job. It meant that, while a farmer would be far too overworked raising these animals, Winry had time to spare. So any young or injured animals were sent to the Rockbell house. If the owners wanted them back, they paid for the animal's care. If they didn't want them back, Winry and Pinako sold them when the time came.

"Yes, I want you to raise them," Roskin smiled. "My sheepdog, Clara, she's sick...too sick to nurse her little ones. And, well...I think there's something to be said for being raised with the family."

"Wha...?" Then Winry looked in the box. "Oh."

The five puppies were just scraps of fur, but their markings could already be distinguished. One was white, with a black patch over its eye and ear. One was black, with a white smudge over its nose. Another – the smallest – was black with a dark brown underside. The one beside it had the characteristic border collie colouring – white on black. And the largest...

Winry sighed. "Den, you stupid mutt."

The largest was a perfect replica of a young Den.

Roskin gave a rueful chuckle, "I think it's safe to assume who the father was."

"Sorry," Winry said weakly.

"Don't be," Roskin smiled. "It's his nature, right?"

Winry huffed out a laugh and took the box in her hands. "You want them back when they're grown?"

Roskin seemed to consider it. "No. You're raising them – they're your dogs...though I might buy one off you when the time comes."

Winry smiled, and waved him off as he started back down the road.

"Now then," she said to the five bundles of fur, "I'm going to have to name you guys..."

**oooooooo**

Winry had everything worked out before Pinako got home. The white one with the black patch on the eye and ear was a female, and she was now named 'Pirate'. The black one with the white on her nose was also a female, and she was called 'Angie'. 'Sailor' was the male with the border collie pattern, 'Fudge' was also a male, brown and black, and their brother, the Den-replica, was called 'Basil'.

She set up a small pen in the living room, but took the cardboard box upstairs to her room, filled with blankets and a hot water bottle to keep the puppies warm. Winry jogged to the markets, bought puppy milk, heated it on the stove and fed them from an eyedropper.

She was lying on the couch, the puppies sprawled across her and dozing, when Pinako came home.

The older woman simply raised her eyebrows and said, "Orphaned or abandoned?"

"Their mother got sick and couldn't nurse them anymore," Winry explained, smiling as Pirate licked her chin.

"As long as they don't make too much of a racket."

"I'll keep them in my room, as always."

"Introduce them to Den, yet?"

Winry snorted, remembering the long-suffering look on Den's face as the puppies clambered over him. "He's okay with them, and he's probably their father, by the way."

"What?"

Winry held out Basil to demonstrate.

"Ah," was all Pinako would say on the subject.

"My thoughts exactly," Winry laughed.

The vibrations of her chest and stomach roused the puppies, and they began clamouring for attention.

"I tell you, Winry, you're getting a lot of practice at being a mother," Pinako told her, looking at the puppies as they whined and whimpered.

**oooooooo**

"No, Angie," Winry said, sweeping the puppy into her arms and away from the shoe, "That's not to be chewed on."

"Fudge!" she snapped, dragging him from under the couch, "You'll get stuck again."

"No sneaking out, now," she huffed, pushing Pirate away from the door. "It's raining and you'll get sick."

Winry managed to grab Sailor before he tried to stagger up the stairs. "No you don't, mister – remember the last time you fell? Try it when your legs are longer."

"And, Basil, leave your father alone," she scolded the largest pup as he began chewing on Den's ear.

Pinako laughed, watching Winry dash around like a harried mother, keeping her pseudo-children out of danger and mischief. When her granddaughter settled on the couch for feeding time, her arms brimming with bright-eyed, wriggling puppies, Pinako's laugh died to a much fonder smile.

Winry had so much love to give.

"It's your turn to be first, Sailor," she said, juggling the eyedropper, the milk, and the puppy at the same time.

Again, Pinako smiled. Talking to the pups as though they could answer her. She wasn't about to stop Winry though, far from it. She knew the power of the spoken word, knew how just hearing a soft, caring voice could calm animals, even if they didn't understand what was being said.

Winry fed each puppy in turn, then curled up on the couch to nap. The puppies curled up with her, a heap of multi-coloured fur and tangled limbs on top of Winry's stomach and legs like a living blanket. Winry giggled lightly as Angie licked the remnants of milk from her fingers.

"You'll make a good mother, some day," Pinako nodded, her voice prophetic.

"Huh?" Winry blinked, her head swiveling to look at her grandmother. "What did you say?"

"Nothing important..."

**oooooooo**

Pinako couldn't help laughing.

Winry had gone to the market to pick up some meat – to start the puppies on solid food. Not just some mashed mince, but proper meat on the bone. Only the puppies had somehow found a way out of the yard, and when Pinako spotted a gaggle of tails heading past the door, she became suspicious.

She'd dashed out of the house, and chased the puppies all the way to the marketplace.

Only to find all five had run, completely unerringly, straight as miniature arrows, to Winry's feet.

She couldn't help laughing.

Winry had dropped the bags to gather her furry charges before they ran off again. They were getting a bit big to hold all at once, but it didn't seem to stop Winry trying.

"Basil, Fudge, stop squirming! Pirate, Sailor, get back here! Angie, just stay still!"

Finally, all five puppies were gathered into her arms, as her lean muscles corded with the effort of holding them up.

"I think we need some obedience training," Winry gasped out.

**oooooooo**

"Sit!" Winry commanded.

As one, all five puppies sat.

"Good boys and girls," Winry praised, feeding them shreds of chicken meat. "Very good."

"How are they doing?" Pinako asked from the kitchen.

"I am pleased to say," Winry announced, her voice falsely dramatic, "That after one and a half weeks, with two hours of training each day, they have finally learned the basic commands."

"And what might they be?"

"Sit, stay, and come," Winry admitted. "If they were older, I'd try to teach them more, but..."

"But their concentration isn't that great at this age," Pinako finished. "Well, let their future owners handle the rest, you've got the basics covered."

Winry beamed.

**oooooooo**

Ed knocked on the door, already prepared to cover his ears when Winry started yelling about taking care of his automail...

To his surprise, when Den started barking, a chorus of high-pitched yaps joined him. More dogs?

Then Winry opened the door.

Ed knew he was staring. Five puppies were milling around Winry's feet, falling over each other in their haste to reach him and Al.

Al laughed in delight (though his real weakness was kittens, he had a fondness for any baby animal), and picked one up. Ed struggled to go through the door with four wiggling bodies in the way.

"You have puppies?" he asked blankly, watching them scramble around Al.

"Yeah, their mother got too sick to nurse them, so Roskin – that's her owner – brought them to me."

"Why you?" Ed couldn't help asking.

"Because that's what they do," Pinako cut in. "Any orphaned, abandoned or injured animals come to us, and Winry takes care of them. Take the Woodrows, for example. They gave her an orphaned calf to tend, then bought him back when he was grown. He's their prize bull now – the size of a barn, and he's still convinced Winry's his mother."

"But why do they send them to you?" Al asked, still knee-deep in puppies as they clambered over his armour.

"I'm the only one who has time to look after them," Winry sighed, then reached down to detach Basil from Ed's pant cuff. "No, Basil! Don't chew on clothes!"

"He looks just like Den," Ed observed, sitting on the couch as he tried to be heard over the yaps and whimpers that were filling the room.

"Yeah, we have a sneaking suspicion Den's their father."

"Oh...okay."

Winry chuckled. His reaction mimicked hers and Pinako's.

"What are there names?" Al asked.

"The one you're holding is Fudge, the one that tried to chew on Ed's pants is Basil, that one dancing around you is Angie, the one on Ed's suitcase is Sailor, and last but not least, is Pirate. Angie and Pirate are the girls, the rest are boys."

"Right." Al hefted the puppy until they were face to face. "Hey, Fudge."

Winry laughed again, then turned suddenly serious. "Okay, Ed, what have you done to your automail this time?"

With a slightly sheepish grin, Ed held out his arm. "I think something's wrong with the elbow."

"Hmmm," Winry murmured, giving the automail a swift once-over. "Shouldn't take too long to fix...for _once_."

"No need to rub it in," Ed grumbled.

"But I need to feed the puppies, first."

**oooooooo**

Ed and Al watched as Winry heated specially-made milk on the stove, and chopped thick slabs of meat into thin strips.

Each puppy was given a bowl of the milk, and a plate of the meat strips.

"Eat up," Winry chimed in as the food disappeared.

"Why do you do that?" Ed asked.

"Do what?" Winry looked honestly puzzled.

"Talk to them like they understand you. They're dogs – they don't understand any of it!"

Winry huffed. "Honestly, Ed – I would think you'd be smart enough to know they don't have to understand me."

"Huh?"

"It's her voice," Pinako chimed in. "The puppies have been hearing it for most of their lives. As far as their concerned, Winry is their mother, and to a great extent, her mood dictates theirs. They're just learning how to react to the world, so they either learn from personal experience, or watch their mother to see if it's good or bad."

"So they're tuned to Winry's moods," Al deciphered.

Pinako nodded. "That's just it. And mood is carried by body language and tone of voice. Winry talking to them tells them what she's feeling, and at the moment, the puppies are picking up the message, _'Mother's calm, Mother's happy, Mother's content'._ And that means they'll generally be the same."

"Oh," Ed said, a little irritated he hadn't known that in the first place.

The three of them looked on as Winry hustled the yawning puppies upstairs, ready to put them to bed.

"She's really takes good care of them, doesn't she?" Al observed.

"Plenty of practice," Pinako said, "Not to mention a lot of love."

"Yeah..." If armour could smile, Al would be grinning. "Winry's always been like that, wouldn't you agree, brother?"

"Huh?" Ed started out of his reverie, but didn't take his gaze from the stairs.

"Brother!" Al's tone was reproachful. "Don't you ever think about what Winry and Granny do for us?"

"Of course I do," Ed defended, flushing.

Their conversation broke off when Winry walked down the stairs.

"Out like lights," she reported. "They always go straight to sleep after they eat a big meal."

"Now, Ed," Winry smiled, "Give me another look at that automail."

**oooooooo**

Winry was feeling slightly nervous. Normally, Ed wandered around the house (and sometimes Risembool) while she worked on his arm. But tonight, he was sitting quietly in the corner, watching her intently. It was making her jittery, but she tried to ignore him, focusing all her attention on the automail.

Ed, for his part, couldn't rip his eyes away from Winry. He was fascinated, not so much by the repairs, but by what was going into the process. Winry was clearly pouring her heart into her work, and now that Ed thought about it, he couldn't ever remember her doing anything else.

Winry was just like that.

She loved those puppies, even though she knew they would have to leave one day. She always welcomed he and Al back to the house, even though she knew they would depart in the morning. She always made him top-quality automail, putting all she had into her work, even though she knew he was going to wreck it again.

Whatever Winry did, she did whole-heartedly. And she expected so little in return.

Ed had been raised on the law of Equivalent Exchange. If you want something, you first have to give something. And if you give something, you should get something back.

So how could Winry pour her heart into everything she did, only to have it somehow fill again when the next time came? And wasn't that the principle of the Philosopher's Stone – to give without getting anything in return?

"Finished!" she crowed in triumph, derailing Ed's train of thought.

Winry looked at him, her soul shining out of her eyes, her heart glimmering in the metal of his repaired arm. He gazed at the automail, where she'd once again set her heart so he could leave with it on his travels.

Leave with it, only to return with it beaten and mangled once more.

Looking at her, Ed was struck with the sudden urge to pay her back.

Before his mind engaged again, Ed had stood and approached the table where Winry sat. He ducked, just enough to give her a gentle kiss on the lips. He pulled away before she had time to react, and she blinked at him with a dazed expression on her face.

"I love you, Winry," he murmured, picking up his arm from the worktable and leaving for the living room, already preparing for re-attachment.

Winry blinked, one hand coming up to trace her mouth. She could still feel the phantom pressure of Ed's lips.

**oooooooo**

_'After all, it's Equivalent Exchange, right?'_ Ed thought to himself, gazing at the shimmering arm Pinako was preparing to connect to his body. _'A heart for a heart.'_

Upstairs, the puppies began yapping as they woke from their nap.

**End.**


	4. Colour

**Colour**

**By Yellow Mask**

**Spoilers:** None overt.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own FMA.

_AN: Just to be clear, that whole part about damaged optical nerves? I have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about there – it just sounds good in my head and has a flimsy medical basis._

**oooooooo**

Winry had never been one of those girls fascinated by colour. She had never doodled rainbows or multicoloured unicorns in her books during a boring class when she was young – for her, it had been automail designs in plain graphite pencils.

She had never browsed the stores looking for gaudy dresses or glittering jewellry – her heart had always belonged to the plain, shining steel of tools and metal. Whenever she bought a new shirt or a new bandanna, she never worried if it would go with the rest of her wardrobe, or if it matched her eyes.

Winry just wasn't that kind of girl.

She appreciated things like sunsets, sure, but there were few people who didn't find the riot of purples, reds, oranges and pinks interesting. Nature at its most picturesque.

But she didn't go out of her way to paint her room a certain colour or make sure her blankets were the right shade to match her walls. Most of her clothes were plain black and/or white, with the occasional lilac jumpsuit or red bandanna. And she dimly recalled a red skirt somewhere.

Winry just hadn't been that interested in colour...until the day she went blind.

**oooooooo**

She had been in the paint store – Pinako had sent her to the next town to buy a new bucket to re-paint the house with. She had been browsing the shelves, looking at the list of yellow tints.

Amber, apricot, corn, cream, dark goldenrod, dark tangerine, ecru, flax, gamboge, gold, goldenrod, green-yellow, lemon, lemon-cream, mustard, old-gold, plain yellow, schoolbus-yellow, selective yellow, straw, tangerine.

Winry stared at the list, each name accompanied by a small square of paper tinted with the particular shade of yellow it advertised. She wasn't sure whether to be downright puzzled or slightly scared at the range.

Idly, she held up a lock of her hair and tried to match it to one of the shades described. After a few minutes, she came to the conclusion it was part-way between straw and lemon. Still feeling rather lost, she tried to picture the house, and tried to classify the shade of yellow the outside walls were painted in.

No luck. She wanted to kick herself for not bringing a picture.

Winry continued to stare at the small squares of colour as if the answer would suddenly materialise from them. She walked back and forth in front of them, she examined them like she examined a faulty piece of automail.

And still, no magical answers were summoned forth.

She compared her hair to the squares again, and tried to think about the colour of her house in relation to her hair. Winry still drew a blank. She tried to think about the colour of the house in relation to the buttercups in the field outside it. No luck.

She tried to think about the colour of the house in relation to the colour of Ed's eyes, but soon gave up on that as well. She had never quite managed to name the exact shade of Ed's eyes, but she suspected it was somewhere between amber and schoolbus-yellow.

She nearly sniggered at the name. 'Schoolbus-yellow'...who came up with that?

Winry turned, ready to walk from the store and admit defeat, when she accidentally bumped into a towering stack of paint cans. They wobbled dangerously, and as she tried to dart out of the inevitable path of destruction, Winry's foot knocked one of the cans from the bottom of the pile.

The world dissolved in a storm of painful metal cans.

**oooooooo**

Winry was told later that she'd been knocked unconscious, and it was a small miracle that no bones had been broken in the fierce rain of heavy metal tins. The manager had heard the thunderous crash, seen her lying on the floor, and called the ambulance.

She'd been rushed to the hospital, Pinako had been called, and she'd been placed in a deserted ward until she regained consciousness.

And that moment, Winry would always remember vividly.

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking in the pitch-black room.

"Winry?" came a voice right next to her, and Winry turned her head.

"Granny?" she whispered, surprised her grandmother had known she was waking in the darkness.

"Are you feeling alright?"

She had a mild headache, but didn't think it was worth mentioning. "I think so...what happened?"

"You were in the paint store, and some cans collapsed on you...do you remember?"

Winry nodded. She remembered falling to the floor beneath them, even if the memory was a little fuzzy.

"What time is it?" Winry asked, even though she already suspected the answer. It had to be some time at night, probably late, given the way she couldn't even spot the dim glow of streetlights coming through the window.

Come to think of it, she couldn't see anything at all. Winry wished Pinako would turn on the light.

"About three o'clock, you had us worried, girl."

Winry sat up, feeling around to determine where her pillow were. Funny, she remembered going to the paint shop at about one in the afternoon...

"I've been out for over twelve hours?" she gasped.

There was a long pause. When Pinako spoke, her voice was puzzled. "No, just about two hours, Winry."

_'But that would make it three in the afternoon,'_ Winry reasoned mentally. _'And it's pitch black...it's not three in the afternoon!'_

"Granny, can you turn on the light?"

There was deathly silence.

"Granny?"

"Winry..." a noise came, sounding like Pinako was swallowing. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"I can't see them, Granny, it's too dark!" Winry snapped.

But an awful feeling was starting to build in the pit of her stomach. Slowly, Winry held her hand up in front of her face. Even in the blackest night, you can see your hand in front of your face.

But there was nothing.

"_I can't see!_" Winry screamed. "_I can't see anything!_"

"Calm down, Winry..." She could feel Pinako take her by the shoulders.

"_Calm down? I'M BLIND!_"

"You don't know that!" her grandmother snapped, but Winry detected a tremble in her voice. "It may just be temporary, for all we know. You received a hard blow to the head, and you know what that means?"

The familiarity of reciting her medical reading calmed Winry somewhat. "In rare cases, a severe blow to the head can jolt or even sever the optical nerves, resulting in complete or partial loss of vision that can be either permanent, temporary as the nerves heal themselves, or may require surgery to repair."

"Good girl," Pinako praised. "Just stay here, and I'll find a doctor."

So Winry was left alone in her hospital bed, her eyes darting from side to side, futilely trying to pierce the thick veil of darkness in front of her eyes.

**oooooooo**

The verdict was just what Winry had predicted. The blow to her head had damaged her optical nerves, though the doctors couldn't be sure to what extent.

"You may regain your sight completely within days," they told her. "Or it may come back gradually. If it starts to come back – in little flashes of light or colour – then call the hospital, and we can schedule surgery to help speed the process up. If your sight hasn't returned within a year, we'll do surgery to see if we can restore it."

Winry noticed they didn't mention the possibility that the damage was irreversible. For some reason, the idea of being blind for the rest of her life because a couple of paint cans had fallen on her seemed so stupid. It just seemed like such an ordinary thing, and yet to have such devastating consequences...

It almost made her want to laugh...or cry.

They sent her home, because there was nothing else they could really do.

So now Winry was adding to her already outstanding collection of bruises as she tried to learn to move about the house. It had been almost two weeks, and she still moved around as though she were walking on broken glass. She descended the stairs by gripping the handrail and feeling for the next step with her feet. She found items she wanted by running her fingers along the wall or table or floor until she came into contact with them.

She often found her tools this way, and was already learning to differentiate between her hammer and screwdriver simply by the feel of the grip. In her current state, she couldn't use the tools, but holding them was...reassuring.

Her biggest fear was this disability becoming permanent, and leaving her unable to continue working with automail.

Winry tried not to dwell on such thoughts, tried to keep a positive outlook even as she stumbled over furniture or a sleeping Den. But it was far from easy. Her eyes moved restlessly, seemingly unable to accept they couldn't see the world anymore. She caught herself rubbing at them several times, as though the blackness surrounding her would dissolve miraculously into colour if she could just push it aside.

It was colour she missed the most.

She could learn the shape, form, and size of an object by running her fingers across it. She could tell how a person was feeling as long as they were speaking to her – Winry had discovered people's voices were as eloquent about their feelings as their faces. She could still listen to music, and it was fast becoming her favourite pastime to sit on the couch and listen to the radio, letting herself become lost in the notes, allowing them to conjure fantastic images in her brain. She could still appreciate her grandmother's cooking, even if she had to poke around on her plate sometimes to find the actual food.

But colour was totally beyond her. There was simply no way of telling what colour anything was by feeling it, or hearing it, or tasting it, or smelling it. You needed to see something to be able to know colour.

Even though Winry had never been a colour-conscious sort of girl, she found herself missing it desperately.

She managed to stumble out to the field, and lay in the flowers, feeling their petals brush her face. Winry tried to remember what colour they were, but all that came to mind was a jumbled picture of yellows, blues and purple.

_'What if this is it?'_ she wondered. _'What if this is permanent? What if I never see anything again?'_

And in the quiet field, with the sun she couldn't see heating her skin, and the flowers she couldn't glimpse brushing her face, Winry cried.

**oooooooo**

Pinako frowned, feeling something twist in her chest as she watched Winry guide herself to the cupboard with her hand on the wall. Her granddaughter began rifling through the packages inside, and at first glance, it would have been hard to tell that she couldn't see them. Until you noticed the way she ran her fingers over each box, as though searching for something, the way she sniffed the contents as she tried to guess what they contained, the way her eyes stared blankly ahead.

One month into her blindness, Winry's eyes had ceased their restless movements. It was as though they accepted that they were blind, and now they just seemed to rest in their sockets, focused straight ahead. The only flashes of life was when someone talked to Winry, or she heard a sudden noise. Then her eyes would swing towards the source, as though out of habit.

Pinako was worried about Winry. Worried about the effect this sudden blindness might have on her.

Aside from the bruises when she tripped over or bumped into something, Pinako was far more concerned about Winry's spirit. She didn't talk as often, and when she did, it wasn't as loud or as confident as it once was. Her movements around the house were almost timid – though Pinako supposed that could be explained by the uncertainty of moving around when you couldn't see what you were about to run into.

She just seemed so...despondent.

"Granny?" Winry called, and Pinako noticed she was holding a small purple flower, cupped in her hands.

"Yes, Winry?"

"Granny..." Winry held the flower out to her. "What colour is it?"

Pinako could feel her heart break. The question was so innocent, so honest, but it held so much pain behind it...

"It's purple," she told her granddaughter. Then she realised that would hardly be enough. There were many shades of purple. "It's lilac purple, with dark violet fringes."

Winry smiled, and though her eyes didn't move, her fingers caressed the flower's petals.

**oooooooo**

Winry's eyes were closed – not that it made any difference – and she was floating blissfully on the steady beats crooning from the radio.

She'd never been much of a music person, but now...now, the notes took her away, as though her blindness allowed them to paint fantastic pictures in her mind, resplendent with colour.

She drifted free, like a feather caught in an updraft, the swelling music making her think of windswept fields, dotted with red and yellow flowers, filled with the flashing, rainbow wings of butterflies...

"Winry!"

Winry jerked, startled out of her reverie. That had sounded like Ed's voice...

"Winry, where are you? I'm really sorry, but my automail got a little damaged..."

Yep, definitely Ed. Winry's blood ran cold. What was she going to tell him? And Al? What would they think?

"You'll have to get Granny to fix it," Winry said simply as the sound of the door opening told her they had entered the house.

She heard them approach, the clunk of Ed's boots followed by the louder, heavier footsteps of Al.

"Come on, Winry," Ed cajoled, "It's not that bad, really, take a look."

"Wish I could," she mumbled. She wanted to be able to see it, she wanted to be able to see them...she wanted to see Ed's eyes, she wanted to see that vivid yellow once more...

"What did you say?" Ed's voice sounded puzzled. Winry could just picture his bewildered expression.

"I said I wish I could," Winry repeated, "See it, that is."

Something was hovering in the back of Ed's mind. Some part of him knew that something was desperately wrong. Winry's eyes were closed, and they had remained that way for the entire conversation. Almost as though she didn't need to look at him...

"Winry?" Al's voice was filled with concern. "What's wrong?"

"Where to start?" Winry sighed. "You guys are probably not going to believe this, but..."

Her eyes were still closed, and she could imagine their incredulous reactions if she just told them she was blind. She had to ease them into it – tell the story first.

"I had to go to the paint shop, because Granny and I were going to repaint the house," she told them. "But I knocked over some cans, and they all fell on me. Knocked me out, and when I woke up, the doctors told me...the doctors told me..."

Winry finally opened her eyes, and Ed started. They were blank, looking strangely filmed over, like a window frosted with ice.

"I'm blind," she said flatly.

Ed drew a shuddering breath, feeling as though the muscles in his legs had suddenly turned to water.

"Winry..." Al whimpered. "You're..."

"It's not so bad," she smiled, but her voice was tight. "It might not even be permanent. But sorry, Ed, I can't fix your automail."

Ed was speechless. Winry was telling him she was blind and she thought he was still worried about his automail?

"Winry..." he sighed, his flesh hand cupping her cheek as he knelt in front of her.

She was sitting on the couch, and his movement brought them eye to eye...not that it mattered to Winry, anyway, Ed realised.

He looked directly into her eyes, searching their blue depths for...something...anything...he wasn't even sure he knew what he was looking for.

It was strange. He'd never been able to really pin down Winry's eye colour – probably because it changed so often. He'd heard that some people's eyes could change colour with their emotions, moods, and even health, and that was certainly true of Winry. He'd seen her eyes at all different shades; aqua, azure, cerulean, cobalt, ice, midnight, navy, periwinkle, powder, prussian, robin-egg, royal, sapphire, turquoise, ultramarine...he'd seen them as pale as a glacier, and he'd seen them so dark they bordered on indigo.

But he'd never seen them like this.

Flat and blank, a slight glaze on their surface like a coating of thin lead.

There was nothing. No spark, no light, the usual captivating blue absent of the secret glimmer of Winry's soul. As though the severed nerve had cut the cord connecting those once-expressive eyes to the mind behind them.

"Ed?" Winry's voice cut into his thoughts. "Are you okay? You haven't moved."

"How-" Ed bit his tongue. She didn't need him insensitively asking how she could tell he hadn't moved.

"One, I'd have heard your footsteps if you moved, and two, your hand is still on my cheek."

Slightly embarrassed, Ed started to withdraw, but Winry's hand flashed up and held his fingers in place. "I don't mind, it sort of...allows me to connect with people, you know? I can't see them, so the only time I'm really aware of them is when they're speaking to me or holding my hand or something..."

Ed swallowed, and turned his hand so his fingers entwined with Winry's.

**oooooooo**

Ed blinked. Winry was standing at the window, and at first, he thought she was staring out at the sunset. But then he remembered her blindness.

He was about to turn and walk away, but something urged him closer.

Winry smiled, but didn't turn her head. "Hey, Ed."

"How-?"

"I recognise the footsteps," Winry explained, still staring at the sky she couldn't see.

Ed stood beside her, and for long moments, both were silent.

"Tell me the colours of the sunset?" Winry asked suddenly.

She couldn't see him, but she could feel the shift in Ed's stance that told her he was surprised.

"Colour's the one thing I can't get back," she whispered. "I can touch something and learn its size, its shape, its texture...but not its colour. I need someone to tell me the colour. So...tell me the colours of the sunset?"

Ed swallowed, feeling somehow saddened by her blindness and in awe of her strength at the same time.

"The sun is blood-red," he began, "The clouds just above it are streaked with orange and pink. Above them, the pink begins to fade into a soft, dark purple...and above that, the sky is a midnight blue as night just begins to fall."

Winry smiled, her eyes gazing blindly at the beautiful scene. "It sounds wonderful."

Ed turned, and wasn't truly surprised to see the glitter of tears in Winry's eyes. Hardly knowing why he was doing it, he leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips.

Winry gasped as she felt a pair of warm lips on her own. "Ed?"

"Yeah?"

His breath ghosted across her cheeks, and she could tell he was still right in front of her.

A slow smile spread across her face. "Kiss me again?"

The blackness was still complete around her, but when she felt his lips press into hers again...and again...and again...bright fireworks went off in her mind, and it was closest she'd come to seeing colour since she'd become blind.

**oooooooo**

"Bye!" Winry waved in what she hoped was Ed and Al's general direction. Heading off into the sunrise...as usual.

What wasn't usual, was that Ed had kissed her while watching the sunset. And again after dinner. And again before leaving.

She was still waving when a spike of pain drilled suddenly into her temples, and she saw a flash of light in front of her.

At first, she thought it was her imagination. But the flash came again, and again...

"It's coming back!" she yelled suddenly, and she could hear Ed and Al's startled exclamations, feel Granny's arms around her, but all she could see was the flash, coming sporadically, like a flickering beacon of hope.

Her sight was returning.

**oooooooo**

Later, she learned that the flashing light was the sun shining off Al's armour – at just the right angle to send a beam of concentrated sunlight directly into her eyes. The doctors theorised that her optical nerves had already been repairing slowly, and the intense light simply jogged them into working again.

Winry didn't care. All she had known at the time was that her sight was returning.

Doctors were called, surgery was arranged, and Ed and Al stayed longer than planned. Two days after that first flash of light, Winry woke in the hospital after the surgery to restore her eyesight. She opened her eyes, and all she saw was a blur of colour.

But she could see it.

She blinked several times – both to correct her vision and to suppress the tears welling in her eyes at the sight of the first colour in her life in a very long time.

She locked eyes with Ed's amber gaze.

"You know," she remarked conversationally. "I've never been able to figure out the exact colour of your eyes."

"Really?" Ed cocked a brow, but he could feel a grin splitting his cheeks. Winry could see again! "Because I've always had the same problem with your eyes."

Winry giggled. "When I get out of here, my first stop is going to be the fabric shop. I'm making some changes to my wardrobe."

"Why?"

"I have a new appreciation of colour," she muttered as she leaned forward to kiss him.

**End.**

_AN: I was originally going to end it with Winry being permanently blind, but I just didn't have the heart to._


	5. Prodigy

**Prodigy**

**By Yellow Mask**

**Spoilers:** Winry going to work in Rush Valley, post Chapter 48.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own FMA.

_Part of the 'Risembool and Rush Valley' series_

**oooooooo**

_AN: Re-reading the manga, it just struck me out of nowhere...isn't Winry as much of a genius as Ed and Al? I mean, you don't see ordinary sixteen year olds churning out automail of that quality – even Dominic, who'd been working on automail for twenty-plus years complimented her craftsmanship! Definitely a prodigy._

**oooooooo**

As the Fullmetal Alchemist, Ed had become accustomed to stares and whispers. He'd grown used to people approaching him like that.

But it never happened quite as often as in Rush Valley.

In Rush Valley, people were curious not only about his title, but about his automail as well. Whenever he came, he knew he was going to have to deal with a crowd of curious onlookers.

And this visit was no exception.

"What did you do this time?" Winry moaned, holding the battered limb in her hands. To Ed's surprise, she seemed weary rather than murderous.

Ed shuffled his feet, conscious of the crowd watching them. But Winry's question was obviously rhetorical, as she turned and strode inside, already muttering about wires and gears and some mechanical lingo he couldn't interpret.

"Brother," Al said from beside him. "Was it just me, or did Winry seem…a little tired to you?"

"Yeah," Ed murmured, "Usually she'd be about ready to take my head off, but she didn't even yell."

"Um, excuse me…" A young boy had detached himself from the curious onlookers and approached him.

"Yeah, kid?" Ed asked, mentally preparing the 'Yes, I am the Fullmetal Alchemist' spiel.

But he was shocked when the boy continued. "Was that…was that Winry Rockbell?"

"Uh…yeah…" To say Ed was surprised would be a gross understatement.

"Whoa…" the boy's eyes were as round as a pair of marbles. "She's just a bit older than me! Wait 'til Dad hears about this!"

"Huh?" Ed said, but the boy had darted away again.

"What was that about?" he asked Al.

Al shook his head, "I don't know, brother. Maybe his father needs automail?"

"Yeah, maybe."

Paninya poked her head out the door, her eyes flicking over the people gathered in front of the shop.

She cupped her hands over her mouth and yelled, "_WINRY'S CLOSING UP FOR THE DAY, NO MORE AUTOMAIL MAINTANCE, ATTACHMENT OR REQUESTS UNTIL TOMMORROW!_"

With some sullen mutterings, the crowd around Ed and Al dispersed.

"Paninya, were all those people coming to see Winry?" Al gasped.

The dark girl nodded. "Duh! Why else would they come here?"

"Is Winry's work really that popular?" Ed couldn't help asking.

Paninya gave him a strange look. As though he had just asked a very stupid question. "Well, yeah, she's famous. She was only here for a couple of weeks before she was doing the top jobs…I mean, as far as automail goes, Winry's a prodigy."

Paninya ushered them into the shop before Ed and Al could recover from that particular revelation. Ed thought about it, and came to the conclusion that Paninya had a point. Winry had been twelve when she assisted in surgery and made her first automail limb. She'd become an apprentice when she was barely sixteen, and was already handling her own customers. He only had to look around Rush Valley to see that all other working mechanics were in their late twenties at the very least. In fact, Garfiel had called her up when she was in Central, saying all her customers were insisting on her return, even though Garfiel was one of the best. Had she surpassed her tutor in so short a time?

Sitting down at the table, Ed couldn't help but wonder what else he hadn't known about Winry. What else had he been too blind to see?

"Winry, you might be closing up, but you've still got appointments," Paninya reminded her.

"Thanks Paninya," Winry beamed, jogging over to the phone where it rested near the table. "I almost forgot."

She picked up the phone and flipped open a small notebook. Ed couldn't resist peeking over her shoulder, surprised when he realised it was an appointment book. And from the looks of things, Winry's schedule was very full. With a start, Ed realised his appearance in Rush Valley would force three customers to reschedule.

"Can't Garfiel do her appointments?" Ed couldn't help asking.

Paninya gave him another strange look. "Garfiel has his own customers. The people written in the book are Winry's. And they won't accept substitutes – after all, automail by Winry Rockbell is worth top dollar."

"Winry's rich?" Al gasped in surprise.

Paninya snorted. "I said it's _worth_ top dollar, I never said she charges people that much. In my opinion, she sells her work far too cheaply."

Ed considered it. He knew that Winry gave him discounts because of their history together, and to learn that she didn't charge her regular customers the full amount...Ed found himself wondering just how much Winry's automail was worth.

"Why does she charge her customers so little?"

Paninya's brow furrowed, as if she were wondering why he was asking these questions. Her expression seemed to say _'don't you know?'_

The truth was, he didn't, and Ed felt ashamed. Paninya had known Winry for a fraction of the time he and Al had known her, yet she seemed to know far more about the blonde mechanic than they did. It didn't seem fair – why hadn't Winry told them these things?

But being perfectly honest with himself, Ed had to ask if he would have listened in the first place. He knew that he and Al were very involved with alchemy, and whenever they saw Winry, it or his automail were generally the subjects of discussion, rarely anything personal.

Had she never told him because she thought he wouldn't care?

But he was broken out of his thoughts as Paninya finally decided to answer his question. "Winry charges so little because she wants people to be able to buy it. She wants her work to go to people who need it, not people who just happen to be rich enough to afford it."

"Is that why she's tired?" Al piped up. "Because she works so hard?"

Paninya nodded. "In a nutshell. She had a huge list of orders, and she insisted on working all of them, even though I told her she was wearing herself out. She said she likes to feel tired – it makes her feel like she's really _done_ something."

Ed mulled that over, but was jerked out of his thoughts when Winry hung up the phone with a sigh.

"Donnel's coming in on Thursday now, and Francine said Saturday would also be convenient," Winry muttered, almost to herself, as she scribbled in her appointment book.

"What about Sam?" Paninya cut in.

Winry bit her lip, glancing at the clock. "There was no reply. He's probably already on his way, unfortunately."

Someone knocked on the door.

"Speak of the devil..." the blonde mechanic muttered, striding across the workshop to open it. "Hey, Sam."

"Hey, Winry."

Ed eyed the young man suspiciously. He was about his and Winry's age, brown-haired and blue-eyed, a right leg made of automail...and he was taller than Winry.

"I'm really sorry, Sam, but I've got an unexpected customer. Can you come back tomorrow?"

Sam smiled affably. "Certainly, what time?"

"About twelve. I'm sorry to have made you walk all this way..."

"It's no problem." His eyes were regarding Winry quite intensely. "And it was worth it."

Winry grinned. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Sam."

"I merely speak the truth. And I'm waiting on tenterhooks for the automail ear, by the way."

Before Winry could reply, Sam had stepped off the doorstep and was starting down the road.

Ed was less than pleased. He'd lived around the Colonel long enough to know flirting when he saw it, and he could tell Sam was trying to hook up with Winry. The thought of which made him feel distinctly uncomfortable.

Winry shut the door, shaking her head. She knew Sam was interested in her, and any other woman would have found his attentions flattering. But than again, any other woman wouldn't have the problem of being in love with Ed in the first place.

She huffed a sigh as the door closed. Like Ed would ever notice her in _that_ way.

Ed, meanwhile, was pondering what Sam had just said. "Automail ear?"

Winry blinked. "Yeah. Sam got his automail when he fell off a cliff. But there was a lake at the bottom, so even though his leg was mangled, he survived. But the water damaged his right ear – he's deaf on that side."

"Oh...so why...?"

"The automail ear?" Winry supplied. "I've been working on a theory..."

When she didn't elaborate, Ed encouraged, "Well...?"

"Well, automail can replace limbs, right? So I thought...why not an ear? Or an eye? After all, they're just fluids and cartilage and nerves arranged in a certain way, and if I ever found a way to duplicate that...

"You could replace lost senses, as well as lost limbs," Ed finished.

He was impressed. He would never have guessed that Winry had so ambitious a dream.

But it stung slightly, that Sam had known this and he hadn't.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" he couldn't stop himself asking.

Winry laughed. "Tell you? Edward Elric? I never thought you were particularly interested in what I did."

So he had been right. Winry hadn't told him because she assumed he wouldn't have cared.

"And a girl's got to have some secrets, right?"

"There are more?" Ed's mouth blurted before his mind could catch up.

Winry laughed again. "Of course, Ed. You have your secrets, I have mine. When you think about it, our relationship is practically built on secrets."

She didn't say it bitterly, or resentfully. Winry's voice was calm, bland, and matter-of-fact. She'd accepted long ago that Ed and secrets went hand in hand, and for now, as far as secrets went, she was only too willing to keep her own.

_'Like being in love with him, for one. I'm keeping that secret.'_

Ed, for his part, was feeling a little worried. Looking back on his relationship with Winry, he realised that – for the last few years at least – what she _didn't_ know about him far outweighed what she did know about him. In some distant corner of his mind, he'd probably known that himself.

He'd just never considered that she might have secrets of her own.

Looking at his childhood friend, bent over his automail arm and working diligently, Ed realised that things were changing. There used to be a time when Winry, Ed and Al had been the inseparable trio of Risembool. They had known all each other's secrets and hiding places, and had always been an open book to each other.

Funny how he'd always thought that Winry would forever remain open to him, even as he and Al closed themselves off. He'd never thought that, as their books closed to her, she just might be closing her own pages to them.

Things had _always_ been changing, and it seemed Winry had recognised it long before he had.

He and Al stubbornly resisted all attempts to open them up, but Winry...Winry was different. She _seeme_d open, _seemed_ honest and trusting, leaving people with the impression they had learned something about her, when she had given them nothing. She seemed to wear her heart on her sleeve, when in reality it was hidden almost too well.

And Ed couldn't help wondering what else would change. It had always been the three of them – he, Al and Winry – but what if she decided she didn't want to be part of the three anymore? What if she decided she wanted someone without secrets?

Would she go to someone like Sam, with whom there were no secrets, no complications?

Ed spent a long and restless night in his borrowed bed.

**oooooooo**

When Ed stepped downstairs in the morning, he was surprised to see Winry was already finished. But then, what had he expected? She was a prodigy, after all.

He watched her pour over a thick book, filled with notes on the biological workings of eyes and ears, and found himself marveling.

Winry was a prodigy, as much of a genius as he and Al...and probably just as capable of making legend. After all, if she achieved her dream, her name would go down in the history books, be spoken by mechanics for years to come.

And the realisation was terrifying.

Somehow, it had always seemed much more reassuring to know that he and Al were the prodigies. Because then returning to her or leaving her behind was up to them – there was never the risk _she_ might leave _them_ behind.

But now that Ed's conscious mind had finally realised what his subconscious must have known for years...it was frightening. The idea that she was just as capable of abandoning them for her destiny as they were...

Two roads diverging, and as they travelled one, Ed wondered at his arrogance to assume she would wait at the crossroads for them. Hadn't he ever thought that she might walk a path all her own?

Suddenly, he desperately wanted to make sure she'd come back, to make sure she knew he wanted – _needed_ – her to keep returning to them.

So he kissed her.

Winry was taken utterly and completely by surprise. She had been pouring over her notebook, turning the concept over and over in her mind, willing some spark of genius to give her a glimpse of an idea. Then Ed had been in front of her, his hand lifting her chin and his lips on hers.

The notebook clattered to the floor, and the sudden sound made Ed pull back.

"E-Ed..." she stuttered out, "What...?"

"Come back to me," he told her, looking straight into her eyes. "No matter how far you go...please come back to me."

Slowly,Winry nodded.

She understood what he meant.

She was a prodigy, after all.

**End.**


	6. Periodically

**Periodically**

**By Yellow Mask**

_part of the 'Risembool and Rush Valley' series_

**Spoilers:** Winry working in Rush Valley.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned FMA, would I be writing fanfiction? Of course not.

_AN: Deals with menstruation (periods), so if that grosses you out, turn back now._

**oooooooo**

Winry groaned, trying to force her body to curl up in an ever-tighter ball, the movement only exacerbating the agony shooting through her abdomen. With a thin cry of pain, she pressed the hot water bottle against her skin and prayed the painkillers she had taken would start working soon.

Winry could really learn to hate Mother Nature. After all, who decided that women's fertility cycles would go hand in hand with a lot of pain? What sort of evolutionary blunder was that?

Logically, she knew it wasn't this bad for most women. Paninya never seemed to be particularly bothered by her own period, and Pinako had said hers had never been too painful (and that had been one of the most embarrassing and revolting conversations of her life) so Winry assumed she was one of the unlucky few.

To be fair, her cramps weren't this savage during her entire menstruation period, just the first day. But on that first day...they were so vicious and agonising Winry spent the entire day curled up in her bed, with a hot water bottle and an entire pharmacy of painkillers. And if she was very lucky, a box or two of chocolate.

Paninya _had_ promised to pick some up for her when she went to the store...

Winry sighed, realising she would have to uncurl herself to get a drink of water. For a moment, she contemplated dehydrating just so she wouldn't have to move, but her medical training asserted itself, forcing her out of her bedroom.

Fire bloomed between her hips, and Winry silently and savagely cursed the female body.

She gulped the water greedily, and had the foresight to take a glass back to her room in case she became thirsty again. She practically fell into the bed, whimpering and curling up on her side like an animal about to die.

_'Come to think of it, dying wouldn't be so bad...'_

Winry closed her eyes, half-hoping to drop off to sleep and take refuge in unconsciousness. It wasn't like she had anything to do today, after all. When she had explained what was happening, Garfiel had looked horrified, but had agreed to handle her customers for the day. A fond smile touched Winry's face. Garfiel was a little crazy at times, but she adored him; it was like having a slightly eccentric uncle.

A sudden stab of pain made her cast a baleful glare at the innocent-looking skin just below her navel. No cut or bruise or burn, no visible injury to indicate the pain radiating from it, like a small destructive demon was clawing at her insides.

Deciding that was a surprisingly good metaphor for what she was feeling, Winry made a mental note of it in case she ever needed to describe what getting her period was like. She shut her eyes again, trying to take deep, even breaths.

"Still in bed?" came a voice that was entirely too cheerful for it's own good.

Winry's eyes flickered open, glaring at the grinning girl standing beside her bed. At her blazing look, Paninya held up her hands as though to ward off a predator.

"Take it easy," she said, holding up her peace offering. "I brought you some chocolate."

Winry's glare melted into a look of utter adoration and gratitude. "Really?"

"Really." Paninya dropped the box onto Winry's pillows, laughing as the blonde practically tore it open.

"Paninya, you are honestly the most wonderful person I've ever met," Winry said faintly, gazing at the chocolates exposed to her hungry gaze. "And if you ever need anything from me, you can have it!"

Paninya laughed again. There was something so endearing in Winry's simple, heartfelt gratitude that she couldn't help it.

For Winry's part, she was lost in the sudden bliss that exploded on her tongue as she bit into the first chocolate. Artificially induced endorphin rush. There was nothing better.

"I can't stay long," Paninya said regretfully. "Work to be done and all. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Probably," Winry nodded. "It's usually only the first day that gives me hell. I'll be better by tomorrow."

Paninya gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and left. The chocolates putting her in a significantly better mood, Winry was even smiling a little as she relaxed back against the pillows.

**oooooooo**

"Winry? Garfiel? Is anyone home?"

Voices – sickeningly familiar voices – drifted up the stairwell to Winry's room. Moaning softly, she buried her head in the pillow, as though she could block them out with sheer willpower.

_'Swear to God, Ed, if you demand I fix your automail today – of all days – there won't be enough pieces of you left to be sorry!'_

"Winry?" Ed was beginning to sound alarmed, and she gave in.

"I'm here!" her voice emerged as a hoarse croak, and she took several swallows from the glass of water beside her.

A clatter of metal and the stomp of heavy feet told her the brothers were ascending the stairs. The door to her room banged open.

"Winry?" Al said, and she could practically imagine his wide-eyed look of astonishment. "Are you okay?"

Ed blinked. Winry was curled up in her bed, a hot water bottle held in the cradle of her hips and a box of chocolates on the bedside table, accompanied by several bottles of painkillers. She smiled a greeting when they entered, but he could see the tight lines around the corners of her mouth and eyes. That and the slight edge to her breathing told him she was in pain. A lot of it.

Not to mention, there was no wrench in sight. Winry must really be in bad shape.

"Are you okay?" he blurted. Her face was alarmingly pale and her lips were almost grey. She looked very sick.

"I'm fine. It's nothing out of the ordinary."

Ed blinked again. He wondered if he was hearing things. Winry was bed-ridden, clearly in pain...and she wanted him believe it was nothing out of the ordinary?

Fortunately, Al spoke for him. "Nothing out of the ordinary? Winry, you're in pain!"

"It's natural," Winry muttered, unwilling to follow the direction the conversation was taking.

"_Natural?_" Ed exploded. "When the hell is it natural for you to be doubled over on a bed and moaning in pain?"

Winry had reached the end of her frighteningly-short fuse, her temper made short by her current discomfort.

"When I'm having my period!" she snapped.

She promptly decided the slight burn of embarrassment in her cheeks was worth it just to see their expressions. Ed's eyes looked they were about to pop out of his head and his jaw was hanging open, as though he had been about to say something but couldn't remember what. Al...well, Al had no real expression, but the inarticulate noises he was making conveyed his shock quite aptly.

Winry couldn't help it. She giggled lightly. The sound seemed to restore the Elric brothers to their senses, because Ed closed his jaw and Al's indistinct noises resolved themselves into a full sentence.

"And that...that hurts?"

The concern in his voice made Winry smile. _'Al, if I wasn't feeling so miserable right now, I'd hug you!'_

"I'm told it's only an ache for most women," Winry confessed, feeling her face beginning to warm again. "But on the first day of mine...it really hurts. Really, _really_ hurts."

Ed stared down at her, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. The scientist in him knew it was a natural biological function, the sign of a reproductively mature female and nothing to be worried about. But another, stronger part of him was pointing out that it was Winry _in pain_, which happened to be one of the highest things on his list of what he couldn't stand. Winry being hurt always made his stomach feel knotty and twisted, as though he'd swallowed broken glass.

And her blue eyes, darkened to almost amethyst with agony, made him wish he was as good with people as he was with alchemy. Made him wish he could just clap his hands and make her pain disappear.

"So if you're here for automail, you'll probably have to wait until tomorrow," Winry said, trying summon a grin.

"It...goes away after today?" Ed hazarded.

"Not really. It just dulls to a throbbing ache. Enough for me to function with some kind of degree of normalcy." Winry avoided his eyes while she spoke. There was just something so surreal and bizarre in talking about her period with Ed. Ed, of all people!

Mind you, he wasn't making any move to tease her about it, and he didn't seem _too_ disgusted. In fact, if anything, he looked...concerned?

For Ed's part, it was a slightly disturbing realisation. That Winry spent several days of every month in pain. Automail attachment was no picnic, but at least it was over quickly. It didn't hang about for days on end, making him miserable and uncomfortable...

"Are you okay?" he muttered, leaning over her. "I mean, there's not anything you need, is there?"

Winry stared at him. For a moment, she wanted to demand to know who this man was and what he'd done with Ed. Then she noticed the honest concern in his golden gaze and fought the urge to ruffle his hair. Sure, he _acted_ gruff and cold-hearted, but Ed was nothing if not protective. Seeing her in pain had to be distressing for him.

"I'm fine, Ed," she assured him. "You guys better find Garfiel and tell him you'll have to stay overnight."

She had caught a glimpse of his arm, and there was definitely something wrong with the elbow joint. What it was, she couldn't be sure (he still had his coat on) but there was something funny in the way he moved it...

"If you're sure..." Al trailed off.

"I'm sure. Go on, shoo!" she said, waving her hands as though to drive them out of her room.

She privately regretted that action as cramps stabbed her anew with the movement of the muscles in her torso. But the brothers obeyed her, and with one final worried look on Ed's part, they left her room.

With a long-suffering sigh, Winry took another painkiller.

**oooooooo**

Winry never came down for dinner. Reluctant to disturb her, Ed nevertheless seized the opportunity to check up on her, and offered to take some food up, studiously ignoring Al's knowing chuckle. Sometimes, his little brother was just a little too perceptive for his own good...or rather, Ed's good.

He rapped tentatively on her door, calling, "Winry?"

Winry jerked out of a light doze. Her stomach was beginning to get the hollow, empty-sack feeling that preceded a long bout of growling. She was starving, but wasn't sure if she had the energy to go downstairs for some dinner.

Belatedly, she realised the person outside was still waiting on her answer. "Come in."

Ed nudged the door open with his foot, and carefully set the plate of food on her already-cluttered bedside table.

"You brought me food," Winry said slowly, as though she could hardly believe it. "You brought me food!"

Sometimes it truly amazed her how thoughtful Ed could be when he really tried.

"Well, you never came down for dinner," Ed explained, a light flush dusting across his face. "And I thought you might be hungry and considering...well, you might not want to go downstairs..."

Perhaps it was the hormones. Perhaps it was the fact he'd been so uncharacteristically sweet to her – not even _one_ shouting match since he'd came. Perhaps it was the fact he'd brought her food when she was starving. Or perhaps it was the fact that he was leaning slightly over the bed to talk to her, and she just couldn't resist anymore.

She bounced up, ignoring the sharp stab of pain in her abdomen, and kissed him quickly on the lips.

"Thanks," she chirped, snatching the plate from the bedside table and beginning to devour the food there.

"No problem," Ed muttered dazedly, one hand coming up to touch his mouth, still feeling the phantom pressure of Winry's lips.

_'Yes,'_ he reflected as he descended the stairs. _'No problem at all. Especially if she keeps thanking me like that.'_

**End.**

**oooooooo**

_AN: This is a very short and very bizarre story, but I just had this idea about Ed having to deal with automail attachment, and Winry having to deal every month with horrible cramps. Weird, I know, but I thought the fic was passable, so I posted it._


	7. Letting Go

**Letting Go**

**By Yellow Mask**

_Part of the 'Risembool and Rush Valley' series_

**Disclaimer:** I do not own FMA, and am making no profit from this story

**Spoilers:** None overt

_AN: Just to make it clear, that quote in the summary (also used later in this fic) isn't mine. I can't remember where I read it, but I thought I better make it clear it wasn't my work._

**oooooooo**

Winry heard the screams as she rounded the corner. For a moment, her blood froze, thinking someone was in desperate need of help. Then she realised that the high, trumpeting screeches weren't human, and while she calmed somewhat she didn't simply turn away and try to block them out. An animal only screamed like that when it was in pain.

Winry broke into a trot, her bag bouncing against her side as her sandaled feet beat a rhythmic tattoo against the dirt like a tribal drum. The scream came again, high and defiant, but with a note of defeat and pain in it as well.

Winry forced her body into a flat-out run, churning dust in her wake to blow behind her in the autumn morning like a rocket's plume. She knew she was getting close, and as some part of her mind registered she was approaching Risembool's animal stockades, she shot around the corner and finally spotted her quarry.

Her first thought was that she hadn't known horses came in that colour. The stallion's coat was the vivid, blazing red of the setting sun, but his mane and tail were pale gold. He was standing in the stockyards, surrounded by five men with ropes and whips who were circling cautiously. Their wariness made Winry think that the horse hadn't been broken in yet, and they were trying to train him.

But then she saw the blood on the stallion's foreleg, and all kind, charitable thoughts went out the window.

"_WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"_

A lion's voice wouldn't have had that much roar in it. The stallion's head jerked up, his nostrils flaring as he scented her. It was then she noticed he was tied to a post with a halter and several ropes around his neck. Another rope looped around his hind leg, forcing the hoof from the ground and making his balance precarious at best, inches away from overturning at worst.

Now that she was closer, Winry could see that blood on his right foreleg came from a deep gash in the horse's shoulder, almost deep enough to expose muscle tissue. Whip weals marked his crimson coat, and his left ear was split open, drops of blood flecking his mane and neck

As none of the men seemed prepared to answer her question, Winry tried again. But this time, her voice was colder, deadlier.

"_What do you think you're doing?_"

When one of them – obviously the ringleader – stepped forward with a broad smile on his face, Winry fought to suppress the urge to fling something hard and heavy at his head.

"Now, Miss-"

"_Why are you abusing this animal?_" Winry didn't shout, but her voice carried the same sting as the whip coiled in the man's hand.

"Now, Miss, wild horses need some rough handling at first-"

The man tried to look contrite, but she could practically taste his disdain. He thought she was just a stupid girl who didn't know the first things about breaking in horses. While she would admit she knew little about it, she was _certain_ injuries like the ones the stallion were sporting weren't necessary.

"How much did you pay for him?" Winry blurted before she'd truly thought about it. Sometimes she could learn to despise her impulsiveness.

A gleam entered the man's eye. "How much are you offering?"

Winry considered herself a good judge of character. And she could tell this man hadn't actually paid for the stallion. Recalling his earlier comments, she realised he had probably captured the horse from the wild herd that sometimes passed through here in the spring and autumn.

Considering it was the beginning of fall now, she didn't think her assumptions were that much of a stretch.

Winry checked the bag at her side, filled with money from her grandmother. A birthday gift, for her to go into town and buy whatever she wanted. For a moment she hesitated, questioning the wisdom of buying a wild horse and thinking how angry her grandmother would be with her.

But then she looked at the horse again, saw his trembling muscles, saw the fear in the white-rimmed eyes...and found she couldn't do anything else.

Cash changed hands, all her birthday money gone in an instant. The men left on the spot, obviously not troubled in the slightest by unloading such a problematic animal on her. She could see they didn't care what happened to her or the horse.

Winry waited until they were gone, then stepped towards the horse. She knew precious little about livestock, but she did know she needed to get the stallion back home. She just hoped she wasn't about to get her skull broken open for her trouble.

She kept her movements slow and casual, trying to keep her body language non-threatening. The stallion's nostrils flared and his ears lay flat against his head, but he made no move to back away.

Winry wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or if he was simply waiting to attack her.

"Easy, boy," she crooned, her voice dropping to the soft, soothing murmur her grandmother had often praised her for. She didn't know what was so special about it, but her voice, in that pitch and tone, had quietened patients in the throes of automail surgery. Pinako had told her it was a gift. A voice she could slip into that washed away pain and fear, and left nothing but the soft, thrumming lilt of her words.

"Easy, boy," she repeated, then realised she didn't even know the stallion's name. "I don't know what to call you, boy," she admitted, never once changing her soft tone. "What shall I call you, hmm?"

She looked at the blazing, fire-like coat, at the soft golden streams of mane and tail...

"Firefly," she breathed, "I'll call you Firefly. How'd you like that?"

It might have been her imagination, but she thought she could see Firefly's trembling easing slightly.

"Easy, Firefly, easy now."

Slowly, gently, she untied the rope holding his hindleg off the ground. With an almost audible sigh of relief, the hoof touched the dirt once more. Firefly's tight muscles relaxed a little more.

Careful not to startle him, Winry untied the ropes around his neck, careful not to touch the gaping shoulder wound. She took hold of his halter rope, and tugged gently, trying to urge him towards the stockyard gates.

He obeyed her urging, but Winry suspected his easy acquiescence was only gained from his sheer exhaustion. Firefly's head dropped, his feet dragged...every line of his body seemed weary. His movements were still jerky, and his nostrils still flared.

He didn't trust her, but she wasn't actively trying to hurt him – at this point in time, she was just the lesser of two evils.

**oooooooo**

Pinako had not been pleased when she saw her granddaughter approaching the house, leading an injured, skittish stallion beside her. But then she saw the look in Winry's eyes, the light that preceded some foolish bout of self-sacrifice and generosity...and she understood.

She didn't know the details, but with the horse's injuries, Pinako would bet that Winry had surrendered all her birthday money to save the animal from cruelty. Sometimes, she thought she could burst with pride at how selfless her granddaughter could be. She wondered if that quality could be credited to her son and his wife, or even herself, for raising her the way they did...or was it simply inherent in her being?

The horse – Firefly, as Winry had named him – was currently in the field behind their house. The ramshackle stables in it had long ago fallen into disrepair, but Winry was determined to fix them up, if only so Firefly could have some proper shelter.

The vet had been called to see to their new charge, and the treatment for Firefly's injured ear and shoulder had been paid for out of Winry's own pocket. Apparently, she was determined not to burden Pinako with her own decisions.

Firefly had tolerated the vet's treatment for the same reason he had tolerated Winry's attentions – he didn't have the strength to truly object to contact that didn't hurt him. His ear and shoulder had been stitched up and treated with antiseptics, and the horse was currently standing in the paddock, under the shade of one of the tress, watching Winry work on the stable while cropping the grass.

**oooooooo**

Winry sighed, wiped sweat from her face and surveyed her work. It wasn't bad. The stables were finally beginning to look like stables, instead of some ramshackle pile of rotting wood. The blonde mechanic stretched, feeling her spine pop satisfyingly.

She was tired. There was still a lot of work to do, but Winry didn't see anything wrong with taking a short nap in the shade. With another sigh, she stretched out in the grass, pulled her hat over her face and closed her eyes...

She awoke to the feeling of soft felt rubbing against her cheek. For a moment, Winry stiffened, then she smelt the musky horse-scent and knew it was Firefly's nose that was touching her. She lay still, letting him investigate her. Letting him sniff at her clothes and nibble at her hair, as though trying to work out what she was.

When his hot breath gusted over her ear, she was unable to hold in a giggle. Firefly jerked away, and Winry heard his snort of alarm. But when she continued to remain motionless, he approached once more.

Winry didn't know how long she lay there, letting Firefly nose at her inert body. Eventually, the horse drew away, and when he didn't return Winry assumed he'd found something more amusing. But when she pushed herself into a sitting position, Firefly was still there, a few feet away, staring at her the way a horse would eye a wounded predator. Dangerous, but not pressingly so.

Winry blinked at him, wondering what she should do. Firefly didn't look like he was about to charge her, but you could never be too careful with a wild horse...

When several minutes passed and nothing happened, Winry shrugged and turned back to the stable. She was almost finished...just needed to patch hole here and there...

**oooooooo**

Firefly's lips tickled as he lifted the apple pieces from Winry's palm. The blonde mechanic held still, stifling a reflexive laugh at the sensation.

At least he took food from her hands now. It had taken nearly a week for Firefly to become accustomed to Winry's presence, to the point where he no longer ran to the opposite side of the paddock when she entered it. He allowed her to touch him now, and seemed to have no problems letting her run her hands over his glossy coat.

Almost a month into his stay, it was hard to tell he was a wild horse. In fact, with the way Firefly was acting, Winry thought he couldn't possibly have been wild all his life. Perhaps he had been born tame, and somehow gone wild later. Or perhaps he had been caught beforehand and broken in, and had somehow gotten free again.

She supposed she would never know.

Firefly whickered, nosing her pockets.

"Sorry, Firefly, I don't have any more," she chuckled, dusting her hands for emphasis. "Go eat some grass instead."

He didn't move. Thinking he wanted to be petted, Winry scratched his forehead and caressed his neck, fingering the swiftly-healing ear. When Firefly butted her in a bid for more attention, Winry was so shocked she nearly lost her balance. Firefly had never actually _sought_ her attention before.

With a soft, secret smile, Winry gave in to the stallion's pleas and tickled his nose.

**oooooooo**

"Firefly!" Winry called as she opened the gate and stepped into the paddock, grass crunching underneath her boots.

A shrill whinny split the air, and the red stallion came charging towards her, stopping just in front of her and rubbing his head against her shoulder. Winry laughed and scratched his ears.

Pinako watched from the gate, puffing on her pipe thoughtfully. To look at them, one would never think Firefly a wild horse. Yet Pinako knew Firefly was far from being tame. Only Winry had earned his trust, and the horse behaved like that with no one else. Pinako had tried to call him over once, and the horse had ignored her.

He only came when Winry called.

Pinako watched her granddaughter chuckle to herself as she combed the tangles out of Firefly's mane. Sometimes, she found it almost frightening how both people and animals just seemed to trust Winry, as though somehow sensing her inherent compassion. It hadn't taken more than a few months for Firefly to trust Winry, and considering his past experiences with humans, that was certainly saying something.

But as Winry continued to groom the wild horse that stood perfectly still for her administrations, Pinako wondered if she was imagining the way Firefly seemed to be looking past the fence and into the horizon.

**oooooooo**

Winry tugged at the branch, muttering various mutinous phrases under her breath. The branch had broken in a cold snap (which were becoming increasingly frequent as winter set in) but hadn't actually fallen out of the tree. That made it dangerous – it could shift and fall on Firefly's head at any given time. So Winry had climbed the tree in an effort to lever the dead wood out.

Firefly whickered from below, his nose snuffling at her feet. He had taken to following her about the field like an overgrown dog, and while Winry found his behaviour endearing, it wasn't making her job any easier. For one, if the branch fell out at the wrong angle it could hurt him, which was exactly what she was trying to avoid.

For another, his nose was tickling her ankles.

Winry yanked again at the branch, growling in frustration when it refused to move. She shook her hair out of her eyes, took a better grip and tried again...

The branch ripped free, but unfortunately for Winry, so did her feet. For a moment, time seemed to slow as she realised she was going to fall, then gravity took hold and she began to drop. Leaves and sky spun together like a ruined painting, her hands were outstretched, scrabbling desperately for some kind of purchase...

She hit something large and solid, stomach first. The breath rushed out of her lungs as the object jerked beneath her, and her arms locked around whatever had saved her. As the world slowly swam back into focus and her panic ebbed, Winry was completely floored to find what had broken her fall.

She had landed on Firefly's back. Considering the stallion had been underneath her, that in itself wasn't too far out of the realms of probability, it was his reaction to it that had her so surprised.

He hadn't moved. He hadn't made to buck her off or throw her to the ground or tear around the paddock like the devil was on his back. He hadn't taken a single step. And as Winry's breathing began to return to normal, Firefly twisted his head and peered at her with one dark, liquid eye.

She could almost hear him asking what she was doing.

Winry prepared to slide off his back, when a sudden, impulsive, reckless thought occurred to her. Half-expecting to be thrown from his back at any moment, Winry eased herself into the proper riding position.

Still, Firefly didn't move.

Without saddle or bridle, there wasn't much Winry could do except tangle her hands in his mane, shift herself into a firmer position on his back, and tentatively tap her heels against his side.

Firefly took a few steps forward.

That settled it. He had to have been trained before – no horse would respond like this if it weren't. Gaining confidence, Winry urged him forward once more.

"Go, Firefly!"

Steel-hard muscles bunched under her thighs, and Firefly shot forward like a bullet from a gun. Winry yelped, clinging for dear life as the stallion tore across the field. She was sure she would fall..

But as Firefly galloped on and nothing happened, Winry's fear slowly melted away, replaced with exhilaration. There was something so primal and thrilling about feeling the wind in her face, her hair streaming behind her as they powered across the ground...

Winry came to a sudden realisation. How was she going to get him to stop?

But then soon realised she needn't have bothered. Firefly slowed as he reached the fence, finally halting in front of it, his neck outstretched as he let loose with a loud, ringing cry that echoed off the hills.

Winry paused, then slid from Firefly's back, stroking his neck as the stallion stared past the fence at the setting sun, his muscles quivering beneath his skin. There was sheer, wild longing in every line of his body as he stared at the horizon.

Hardly knowing how she knew, Winry nevertheless understood.

Firefly wanted his freedom.

**oooooooo**

"So what are you going to do about it?" Pinako asked, her eyes sharp as Winry explained the situation over dinner.

Winry shrugged. "I can't set him free – not now, at least. Winter's setting in and he hasn't healed properly yet...but when spring comes, and the herd comes back here..."

Pinako stared at her granddaughter, noting the wistful expression in her eyes. She adored Firefly, and here she was talking of giving him up like it was the most natural thing in the world...

"Are you sure?"

Winry nodded. "He's not really happy, grandma. And I want him to be happy..."

**oooooooo**

The snow was a cold, crisp blanket on the ground. It crunched under Winry's feet as she opened the gate. She could see the stallion standing under a barren tree; a drop of blood on a sheet of white.

"Firefly!"

Firefly's head went up. His ears swiveled towards her and he came at her beckoning with a ringing neigh of greeting. She hugged his neck tightly, pressing her chilled cheek to his warm coat. He rested his head on her shoulder and pressed his chin into her back, lipping at the corner of her jumper.

Her breath steamed in the air as Winry scrambled onto his back. She never tried to put a saddle or bridle on him – not even a rope – and while riding like this was practically inviting disaster, Winry didn't want to restrain Firefly in any way. She didn't want to do anything that might disrupt his fragile trust in her.

She suspected he'd only tolerated her presence at first, his injuries leaving him unable to do anything else. Then as he learned that interactions with her were beneficial to him, he began to accept her company. Gradually, he began to welcome her and actively seek her out.

And now, he was even willing to let her ride on his back.

But she was the only one he behaved this way with. Pinako's overtures were met with distrustful stares and flattened ears. And he wouldn't let anyone but Winry touch him.

Winry knew that Firefly loved her, in whatever way horses felt love.

But he loved his freedom more.

She hugged him a little tighter, and tried to sniff back a few mournful tears. She wanted to keep him...but that would be selfish. He wanted to be free.

She would miss him. But she knew that when you really loved something, you had to be willing to let it go.

**oooooooo**

The air was fresh and crisp, still with the slight chill of winter, but gradually surrendering to the new season's warmth.

Ed took a deep breath, marvelling at how wonderfully clean the air was in Risembool. Spring was just around the corner, and while the air was warming it still held the sharp tang of winter. As he and Al approached Rockbell Automail, a flurry of barks rang out as Den announced their presence.

"Back again?" Pinako laughed, opening the door for them.

Ed looked around, but the usual flying wrenches were conspicuously absent. "Where's Winry?"

"Outside," Pinako pointed at the window.

It say Ed was surprised was an understatement. Winry was in the field behind the Rockbell house, and it looked like she was riding a horse! The horse's coat was a strange, blazing red, but the mane and tail were the same colour as Winry's hair, long streams of gold ribboning behind the pair as they surged across the grass.

As they came closer to the house, Ed came to the abrupt realisation that the horse Winry was riding didn't have a saddle. Or a bridle, either, for that matter.

"Is she trying to get herself killed?" he hissed, staring as Winry turned her mount (how, he wasn't sure) and urged the horse to jump a fallen branch.

They flew over the branch like Pegasus launching into flight. Winry laughed, raising her arms to the sky as they landed smoothly and cantered towards the gate.

"Hey, Ed, hey, Al," Winry greeted.

The horse's nostrils flared as they approached the brothers, and there was a look in the animal's eyes that reminded Ed of a wild dog. As though the horse was sizing them up, considering whether or not he and Al could be a threat.

"Easy, Firefly," Winry cooed, stroking the horse's neck as she dismounted. "Easy...these people are my friends."

There was something about her tone of voice that rang a dull bell in Ed's memory. A voice he could remember from the time he had to undergo automail surgery, a voice that called from beyond the curtain of unconsciousness, a voice that somehow, in its own way, made the pain more bearable. Had Winry spoken to him like that when he was wracked with the pain of automail surgery? Had she soothed him with a voice like that?

"One last ride, huh?" Pinako asked.

Winry nodded, and to Ed and Al's astonishment, she seemed to be on the verge of tears. As though sensing her mood, Firefly whickered softly, rubbing his head against Winry's side. Enchanted by the beautiful stallion, Al stretched out a hand to touch his head...

Only to have Firefly jerk away, ears pinned back and neck stiff.

"Don't try to touch him, Al," Winry admonished, calming Firefly once more. "He's a wild stallion, he doesn't take well to being touched."

"Wild...?" Ed repeated faintly. "But he was letting you _ride_ him!"

Winry shrugged, and it was Pinako who answered. "Winry is about the only being on this green earth that Firefly trusts. No one else is even allowed to touch him."

The old woman laughed a little. "I always thought one-person horses were a myth. I figured a good rider could do anything with a horse, the same it doesn't matter what metal a good mechanic works with. But Winry really is the only one who can do a thing with Firefly."

She gave a her granddaughter a shrewd look. "Are you sure you want to let him go?"

"You're letting him go?" Al yelped.

Winry nodded. "He's a wild horse – he wants to be free. It would be selfish to keep him here. I mean, yeah, I love him," she hugged Firefly's neck briefly. "But part of love is doing what will make them happy."

"There's no guarantee he'll stay happy," Pinako pointed out. "He might be captured later, by someone not as kind as you."

Winry shrugged. "Life is a risk, Granny, but life's also about people making the right choices. And I have to know that I, at least, made the right choice."

Winry couldn't help but think it was similar to what happened with Ed. Whenever he left, there was a risk he would never come back, a risk he would find another mechanic, one he liked better...but she had to let him go. Because it was the right thing to do.

Just like letting Firefly go was the right thing to do.

She hugged the huge red neck tightly, burying her face in the golden strands of his mane. He curved his neck until his nose touched her back, sensing her sorrow but not knowing its cause. Tears swam in her eyes as she stroked the rough coat, only just beginning to lose the thicker hairs that had kept him warm during winter.

But now it was spring, and the wild herd would be passing through. If she was to let him go, it had to be now.

With a sniffle, Winry stepped away. She opened the gate to the paddock and stepped back, leaving his path to freedom open and waiting.

Firefly snorted uncertainly, as though not quite sure what she was saying. He took hesitant steps towards the open gate, glancing at Winry as though waiting for instructions. Slowly, achingly slowly, he passed through the gate and into the open fields. He paused, looking back at Winry.

Everyone knew that Winry could stop him. If she called, Firefly would come. He would turn his back on the hills and the sunset, forsaking his freedom to live the rest of his life with her...

But Winry didn't call. She stood where she was, just watching as Firefly slowly walked out of her life, tears hovering on her eyelashes.

Gradually, in stops and starts, Firefly drew further and further away. Eventually, with one last backward glance, he disappeared over a hill, vanishing into the distance.

"You feeling okay?" Pinako asked.

"In this life, only three things truly matter," Winry quoted with a tremulous smile. "How deeply you've loved, how much you've trusted...and how gracefully you've let go."

Her laughter was bittersweet. "I don't remember where I read that, but I think it's appropriate to this situation."

Ed and Al couldn't find anything to say.

"He would have stayed with you," Pinako said quietly.

"He probably would have," Winry murmured. "But he would always want his freedom. He would never be truly happy. But if I let him go, there's a chance he can find that happiness."

Ed couldn't help wondering if horses could forget, or if Firefly, running wild and free, would feel a twinge in his heart as he remembered Winry.

It was in that instant that Ed was suddenly struck by how strong Winry seemed; standing there, gazing after Firefly, the crystal shimmer of tears on her cheeks. Strong and tragically beautiful, watching something she loved fade into the distance.

"He probably wanted to stay," he found himself saying. "Firefly, I mean...he probably wanted to stay."

Winry smiled at him. She saw the wistful look in his eyes, and knew Ed wasn't just speaking of the stallion. It occurred to her that Ed was rather like Firefly – he didn't want to leave her, but he had to answer a more pressing call. In Firefly's case, it was his bone-deep yearn for freedom. In Ed's...it was his quest to restore his brother.

"He probably did," she agreed. "Firefly loved me...in whatever way horses feel love. And I loved him...enough to let him go."

"That's sounds sad," Al said mournfully.

Winry shrugged. "It's what people do. We love, and we risk getting our hearts broken...but if we refuse to take that risk out of fear, then our lives are empty, our loss the greater. Because love is what make an existence into a life. We love, and it hurts – sometimes it hurts so much you can't breathe – but the happiness it brings can be matched by nothing else."

**oooooooo**

Winry couldn't help thinking that this was a definite first. Ed had never woken her up to say goodbye before. She blinked sleep from her eyes and listened to him tell her that Al was downstairs, they were ready to leave, he was grateful to her for fixing his arm and leg...

She could see in his eyes that there was something else, something that he wasn't saying. Without actually realising it, Winry suddenly and abruptly decided she wasn't going to hide the way she felt anymore. Not when she was almost certain he felt the same way about her.

It was when he started to stumble over the words of the actual goodbye that she sprang into action. Winry leaned up and kissed him quickly on the lips.

She grinned broadly at his astounded expression.

"Three things, Ed," she whispered.

Without even waiting to see his reaction, she flopped back down to her bed and rolled over, closing her eyes and already preparing to go back to sleep.

**oooooooo**

"_Three things, Ed."_

Winry's voice was still echoing in his ears as Ed stared out the window of the train. Al seemed to sense his brother's sombre mood, and remained silent as Ed quietly brooded.

"_In this life, only three things truly matter. How deeply you've loved, how much you've trusted...and how gracefully you've let go."_

Ed gently touched his mouth, trying to remember the feel of Winry's lips on his own. He squashed the sudden, irrational urge to run back to Risembool just to kiss her again and refresh his memory.

"_In this life, only three things truly matter. How deeply you've loved, how much you've trusted...and how gracefully you've let go."_

In a sudden rush, Ed understood what Winry was saying. She was saying that she loved him, and she knew he loved her...and she was still letting him go.

In that instant, Ed thought about the principal of Equivalent Exchange, and wondered what he had done to deserve Winry. This was swiftly followed by the realisation that he had never done anything _that_ good, and his stomach twisted at the sudden feeling of being unworthy, of not being good enough for Winry...

Still...

"_In this life, only three things truly matter. How deeply you've loved, how much you've trusted...and how gracefully you've let go."_

If she was going to let him go, the least he could do was come back to her.

**oooooooo**

A year after Winry released Firefly and she and Ed shared their first kiss, the blonde mechanic and her lover were sitting on the back porch in the warm spring night, embracing and trading kisses.

"How long can you stay?" Winry gasped out as Ed switched his attention from her lips to a small patch of skin just below her earlobe.

"Don't know," Ed muttered, his voice muffled against her neck. "At the moment...don't care..."

Winry giggled, but it soon turned into another gasp as Ed's hand began to roam across her back, caressing slowly.

Something shifted in the night.

Both Ed and Winry turned, their eyes squinting as they tried to pierce the formless darkness beyond the soft glow of light that came from inside the house.

Another shift...something moved in the blackness...

Something that whinnied softly.

Ed could feel Winry stiffen with shock in his arms.

Firefly stepped into the circle of light, red coat aglow, flaxen mane and tail drifting behind him like gold smoke.

"Firefly?" Winry whispered hoarsely.

Firefly whickered. Winry leapt from the porch, rushing to throw her arms around the stallion's neck, laughing and crying at the same time.

"Firefly!"

Ed smiled from the porch, feeling a spark of sympathetic happiness at her obvious elation. Firefly nibbled at her hair, in what Ed assumed was the horse-equivalent of a hug. Winry sniffed back tears of joy and just squeezed him tighter.

Something else nickered in the darkness.

Winry's eyes widened in shock as shapes moved behind Firefly – a small group of mares and foals. They were nervous, whickering and snorting uncertainly, but the fact that Firefly seemed so at ease with the blonde woman seemed to reassure them to the point that they didn't immediately bolt off into the night.

Firefly swung his head around to look at them, then back at Winry as he nuzzled the mechanic's cheek.

Winry knew it meant nothing, but something inside her thought the gesture was almost as though Firefly were asking her what she thought of his family.

"They're beautiful," she whispered against his neck. "Just like you."

She stayed like that for a long time, embracing Firefly as Ed waited on the porch and his herd moved in the night behind them. Two very different creatures from two very different worlds, drawn together by the love each felt for the other, the bonds they forged one winter, long ago.

Then Winry kissed the golden mane and stepped back to the porch. Firefly bobbed his head, almost like a gesture of farewell, then vanished once more into the darkness.

"He came back," Ed observed. "With a family, too."

Winry nodded, hugging him tightly.

"It's funny," Winry murmured into his shirt. "If you let something go, it can still come back."

Ed smiled, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "With the way you love us, how can we do any less?"

**End.**

_AN: Yes, almost unbearably sappy and sentimental. I make no excuses._


End file.
